
Class „DA'S..8l 

.3 
Book ^ZVgr- 



ANECDOTAL MEMOIRS 



ENGLISH PRINCES. 



ANECDOTAL MEMOIRS 

OF 

ENGLISH PRINCES, 



NOTICES OF CERTAIN MEMBERS OF THE ROYAT. 
HOUSES OF ENGLAND. 



IN TWO VOLUMES. 



Hy W. H. DAVENPORT ADAMS, 

AUTHOR OF 

Memorable Battles in English History," " The Sea-Kings of 
England," &c., &c. 



VOL. L 



T. (V\UTLEY XEWBY, PUBLISHER, 

30, WELBBCK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 

1863. 

[THE RIGHT OF TRANSLATION IS RESERVED.] 



'Z- 



4 



^ 



> • 



"V 



/s 



A 



mSCRIBED 



WITH SENTIMENTS OF GRATITUDE AND RESPECT 



TO 



USHER OF THE BLACK ROD, 



&C., &C., &C., 



BY 



HIS OBLIGED AND OBEDIENT SERVANT, 

THE AUTHOK. 



July, 1863. 



CORRIGENDA. 



Vol. L, p. 50, for paragraph vi. read paragraph vii., and dele the number vii., 
line 19. 

Vol. I., p. 109, line 10, supply number ii. to the second paragraph. 

Vol. I., p. 142, line 10, for the text as it stands, read " Nor, indeed, is there any 
foundation for supposing that it was by the Duke's orders she was cruelly ill-used 
in her captivity, unjustly condemned of witchcraft, and foully murdered by being 
burnt in the market-place of Rouen." 

Vol. I., p. 227, Une 16, for v. read vi. 

Vol. I., p. 228, line 13, for vi. read vii., and re-number the paragraphs up to 
page 245. 

Vol. I., p, 260, line 19, for viii. nearf ix. Page 261, line 19, for ix. read x. 

Vol. I., p. 281, line 22, for " armoric" read " Armoric." 

Vol. I., p. 304, line 6, for xv. read xxi., and re-number the paragraphs down to 
page 314. 

Vol. I., p. 336, line 6, for iii. read ii. 

Vol. I., p. 338, Une 1, for iv. read iii. 

Vol. I., p, 341, line 9, for v. read iv. 

Vol. I , p. 343, line 9, for vi. read v. 

Vol. I., p. 360, not^, for " Pick's " read " Peck's." 

Vol. II., p. 8, line 16, for xU. read viii. 

Vol. IL, p. 12, Une 4, dele vui. 

Vol. II., p. 52, line 1, for xx. j'ead xxi., and re-uumber the paragraphs to end of 
chapter. On p. 66, paragraph xxiv. should be xxvi., and so on. 

Vol. II., p. 69, line 22, for " Quos," read " Quem," and for " prius dementa," read 
*' primum dementat." 

Vol. II., p. 70, line 24, paragraph xxvii. should be paragraph xxx. 

Vol. II., p. 73, line 19, paragraph xxviu. ought to be xxxii. 

Vol. II., p. 81, line 5, paragraph xxxiv. ought to be xxxix. 

Vol. II., p. 162, Une 5, dele x. 

Vol. II., p. 203, line 19, insert at beginning of paragraph the number ii. 

Vol. II., p. 214, line 1 5, insert the number x. 

Vol. II., p. 215, line 24, insert the number xi. 

Vol. n., p. 231, line 23, for xi. read ix. 

Vol. II., p. 331, Une 14, for xix. read xx. ; and Une 24, for xx read xxi. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTEE. 

I. — Pbince Edward of Woodstock 
II. — John, Duke of Bedford 
III.— Prince Edward of Lancaster 
rV".— Prince Edward of the Sanctuary 
v.— Richard, Duke of York 
VI.— Prince Edward of Middleham 
VII.— Prince Arthur of Winchester 
VIII.— Prince Henry of Stirling ... 



page. 
3^106 

109—146 

149—220 

223—245 



265—276 
279—315 
319—362 



VOL. I. 



ANALYTICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER L 



PRINCE EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK THE BLACK PRINCE. 



I'AGE. 

I.— The Opening of a Great Career 3—9 

1. Interest of the life of the Black Prince. — 2. His 
birth and nursing. — 3. Dr. Walter Burleigh, his 
tutor.— 4. New College, Oxford : associations. — 5. 
His honours. — 6. Appearance in public life ; Christ- 
mas at Antwerp. 

II.— The Fight atCrecy 9—44 

1. His age. — 2. Causes of the French war j popular 
ballads the exponents of popular feeling. — 3. The 
Vow of the Heron ; what the Earl of Salisbury 
vowed. — 4. Continuation of the Yow of the Heron ; 
the Earl of Derby's daughter. — ^5. What Queen 
Philippa vowed. — 6. King Edward's conclusion. — 7. 
Vow of the Bachelors. — 8. The spirit of chivalry. — 
9. Hallam on the war with France. — 10. Commence- 
ment of the campaign of 1346. — 11. The Ford of 
Blanche Taque. — 12. Passage of the Somme. — 13. 
Position of the English army. — 14. Its order of 
battle — 15 Use of cannon — 16. Preparations. — 17. 
The French hosts come up with the English army. 
— 18. A prodigy and an evil token .--19. The ori- 
flam.me, and the burning dragon. — 20. Advance of 
the Genoese. — 21. Prince Edward wins his spurs. — 
22. His narrow escape. — 23. Victory of the English ; 



CONTENTS. m 



PAGE. 



flight of Philip of Yalois — 24. Meeting of son and 
father. — 25. A Sabbath-day melee. — 26. Slaughter 
at Creyy.— 27. "Ich Dien" (see note).— 28. Siege 
of Calais. — 29. The town surrenders. — 30. Expenses 
of the war. — 31. Treachery of Sir Almeric de Pavia. 

III.— The Fight at Poitiers 44r—67 

1. A sea-fight with the Spanish.— 2. The Fair Maid 
of Kent. — 3. Renewal of the war with France. — 4. 
A ride of terror — 5. King Edward returns to Eng- 
land. — 6. Successes of the Black Prince. — 7- Advance 
of the French. — 8. Battle-field of Poitiers. — 9. Its as- 
sociations. — 10. Attempted negotiations. — 11. Speech 
of the Black Prince. — 12. Confidence of the English. 
— 13. Commencement of the battle. — 14. Gallant 
charge of the English. — 15. A poet's eulogium. — 16. 
Capture of King John. — 17. Courtesy of the Black 
Prince. — 18- The real demerits of chivalry. — 19. 
Edward's reception in England. — 20. Rejoicings in 
London. — 21. Unsuccessful invasion of France; 
treaty of Bretigny. 

IV.— The Love-Match, and the Fair Maid of Kent... 68—72 
1. — A romantic story — 2. Marriage of the Prince 
and the Beauty. — 3. They repair to Aquitaine. — 4. 
Government of Aquitaine. 

V— A Spanish Ally 72—86 

1. Don Pedro seeks Prince Edward's aid — 2. Motives 
which influence Prince Edward. — 3 Roncesvalles — 
4. The two armies — 5. The Black Prince prays. — 6. 
Victory of Najera. — 7. The battle scene described 
by a Latin poet. — 8. Don Pedro's treachery. — 9. Da 
Guesclin ; a chivalrie episode. 

VI. — The Close of a Great Career 86 — 93 

1. Discontent in Aquitaine. — 2. Illness of the Prince. 
3. Slaughter at Limoges. — 4. A blot on the 'scutcheon. 
— 5. Prince Edward returns to England.— 6. Dark 
years — 7- Omens and prognostications. — 8. Death 
of the Prince. 

VII.— Last Words 93—105 

1. A contemporary chronicler. — 2. A death-bed scene. 



IV 



CONTENTS. 



— 3. Last moments of the Prince. — i. General lamen- 
tations. — ^5. The funeral procession. — 6. Spectators 
of the scene. — 7- Prince Edward's tomb ; his epitaph. 
— 8. The epitaph in English. — 9. Prince Edward's 
character. — 10. Lessons of his career. 



CHAPTER 11. 



PAGE. 



JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 



109—146 



1. His birth. — 2. His education. — 3. Gains a victory over 
the French and Genoese. — 4. Appointed Regent of 
England.— 5. Death of Henry V.— 6. Regent of 
France. — 7- Condition of France — 8. A brotherhood 
of arms. — 9. The principle of legitimacy. — 10. At Ivry. 
— 11. Movements of the Regent Duke. — 12. Battle 
of Verneuil. — 13. Results of the victory. — 14. Siege 
of Orleans. — 15. Orleans described. — 16. The English 
operations; death of the Earl of Salisbury. — 17. 
Progress of the siege. — 18 Battle of the Herrings. 
—19. The Maid of Orleans —20. Her birth and early 
years. — 21. The Heavenly voices. — 22. A current 
prophecy. — 23. Joan of Arc travels to Chinon. — 24. 
Her reception. — 25. Enters Orleans — 26. Defeats 
the English— 27- Effect of her successes. — 28. Mis- 
haps of the English- — 29. Enthusiasm of the French. 
30. Defeat of Talbot —31. Charles the 7th crowned 
at Rheims.— 32. The Duke's exertions.- 33, 34. 
Operations of the two armies. — 35. The Regent 
marches upon Rouen. — 36. Severe defeat of the 
French. — 37. Successes of the English j capture of 
Joan of Arc. — 38. Her fate. — 39 Coronation of 
Henry VI.-^O. Death of the Regent's wife.— 41. 
Fresh sources of dissension. — 42. Dunois out- 
manoeuvres the Regent — 43. The Duke's illness, 
and death. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER III. 



PRINCE EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

PAGE. 

I.— Shadows 149—162 

1. Birth of Edward of Lancaster — 2. Margaret of 
Anjou. — 3. Popular scandals — 4. Decay of the Eng- 
lish power in France. — 5. Circamstances of Prince 
Edward's birth. — 6 His christening. — 7- Henry the 
6th*s imbecility. — 8. His recovery, and recognition of 
ids first-born. — 9. Investitore of the Prince of Wales. 
—10. Outbreak of the Wars of the Roses.— 11. 
Figures on the canvas. — 12. Richard of York. — 13. 
Opening of the wars. 

II.— The White and Red Roses 162—197 

1. Battle of St. Albans —2. The Prince of Wales. 
—3. The Earl of Salisbury.— 4. Battle of Blore 
Heath— 5. Misfortunes of the Yorkists.— 6. The 
White Rose triumphant. — 7- A remarkable scene. — 
8. Its results — 9- Singular Parliamentary action. — 
10. Contagious nature of enthusiasm. — 11. Help 
from Scotland —12 Death of the Duke of York.— 
13. How his corpse was treated. — 14. Miseries of 
civil war. — 'IS. Second battle of St. Alban's — 16. 
The soldier son. — 17. Triumph and defeat. — 18. 
Edward of York enters London. — 19. Two principles 
at work. — 20 At Towton. — 21. Margaret flies to 
Scotland. — 22 Help is given her — 23. A miserly 
Scot. — 24. Queen Margaret's frowardness. — 25. She 
flies to France ; cedes Calais. — 26 Invades England. 
— 27. Renewal of the war. — 28. A romantic episode. 
— 29 Wanderings of Margaret and Prince Edward. 
— 30. At Bruges. — 31. Courtesy of the Count de 
Charolois — 32. The troubadour king ; the boy prince. 
— 33. An ideal portrait. — 34 Edward the 4th and the 
Earl of Warwick — 35. VVarwick's revolt and defeat. 
— 36. A projected alliance. 

III.— A Reconciliation 197—313 

1. Interview between Margaret and Warwick. — 

a 3 



VI CONTENTS. 



2. Its results. — 3. A love story. — 4. A vow on the true 
cross. — 5. Negotiations. — 6. Marriage troth. — 7- Con- 
dition of England. — 8. Warwick lands at Dartmouth. 
—9. " A Warwick ! King Henry !"— 10. Success of 
the Red Rose. — 11. Margaret lands in England. — 
12. Edward the 4th at Ravenspur — 13. Advances 
upon York. — 14. His perjury. — 15. Battle of Barnet 
Heath. — 16. New schemes of revenge. — 17- Prince 
Edward's army. 

IV.— Tewkesbury - 214—220 

1. Battle of Tewkeshury. — 2. An historical problem. 
— 3. Murder of Prince Edward. — 4. Was he mur- 
dered?— 5. "In death divided." 



CHAPTER IV. 



PRINCE EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARY. 223—245 

1. Elizabeth Woodville in the Sanctuary. — 2. Birth of 
Prince Edward. — 3. The Queen's distress. — 4. A poor 
christening — 5. Edward the Fourth greets his queen. 
— 5 * Triumph of the White Rose. — 6. Mediaeval 
revels. — 7- Regal pageantry. — 8. A strange legend. 
9. An educational theory. — 10. Regulations of the 
Prince's household. — 11. Incidents in his early years. 
— 12. Investiture as Prince of Wales. — 13. At Ludlow 
Castle. — 14. A narrative of events — 15. The Duke 
of Gloucester. — 16. Elizabeth takes refuge in the 
Sanctuary — 17- Interview with the Archbishop of 
Canterbury — 18 Gloucester's perfidy. — 19. His 
coronation. 






CHAPTEE V. 



RICHARD, DUKE OP YORK. 



1. Shakespeare's drama — 2. Marriage of the boy duke. — 
3. His sumptuous attire. — 4. Is sheltered in the 



CONTENTS. 



Vll 



Sanctuary. — ^5. Is parted from his royal mother. — 
6. Joins Edward the 5th in the Tower. — 7- A foul 
tragedy. — 8. Murder of the two Princes. — 9. The 
Shakespearian tragedy. — 10. Discovery of the 
Princes' skeletons. 



CHAPTER VI. 



PAGE. 



PRINCE EDWARD OF MIDDLEHAM. 



265—276 



1. Romance of English history— 2. The gentle Anne. — 3. 
Compulsory marriage with Richard III — 4 Birth of 
Edward of Middleham. — 5 My Lord the Prince. — ^. 
Royal pageants — 1. A fathers love. — 8. At York.— 
9. Love and ambition crushed in the dust. 



CHAPTER VII. 



PRINCE ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 



279—315 



1. A popular marriage. — 2. Henry the 7th's title to the 
throne. — 3. Birth of Prince Arthur — 4. A christen- 
ing ceremony. — ^5. The laggard sponsor — 6. Children 
of Henry the 7th. — 7- Education of Prince Arthur. 
— 8. His mind and person. — 9. His instructor, 
Thomas Linacre. — 10. A prince's love-letter. — 11. 
Arrival in England of Donna Catalina — 12 Inter- 
view between Henry the 7th and Catherine of 
Arragon — 13. Progress of the Infanta. — 14. The 
Prince and Princess enter London. — 15. The proces- 
sion. — 16. A civic pageant— 47- The marriage 
ceremony — 18. A singular episode — 19. The bridal 
pomp. — 20. The rivals in London. — 15.* Carousals 



* By an error unfortunately overlooked while the book was passing through 
the press, the paragraphs from this pouit have been wrongly numbered. 



Viii 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 



in Westminster Hall. — 16. A wonderful ** moving 
show." — 17. Henry the Eighth dauces. — 18. Sunday 
pastime — 19 The Prince and Princess at Ludlow 
Castle.— 20. Death of Prince Arthur.— 21. The 
funeral procession. — 22. At Worcester Cathedral. — 
23. What might have been. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



PRINCE HENRY OF STIRLING. 



I— His Early Yeabs 319—331 

1. Birth and christening of Prince Henry. — 2. His 
guardian, the Earl of Mar. — 3. The Prince's pre- 
cocious wit. — 4. Anecdotal gossip. — 5. Accession of 
James the First.— 6. The Order of the Garter.— 7. 
Reception of Prince Henry in London. — 8. Invested 
Prince of Wales. — 9. His honours. 



II.— His Education— Anecdotes 

1. Resembla'nce to Henry the 5th ; his character j 
anecdotal illustrations of Prince Henry's character: 
— 1. His love of martial pursuits. — 2. His patriotic 
ardour. — 3. His ready wit— 4. His religious ten- 
dencies. — 5. Portrait of the Prince. 



331—344 



IIL—His Court 345—350 

1. His attendants. — 2, 3. Regulations of his house- 
hold.— 4. Matrimonial projects ; his popularity. 

Note.— His character set forth by a contemporary writer. 

IV. — His Illness, and Death 351 — 362 

1. His illness, and death. — 2. Curious account of the 
growth of his malady. — 3. Popular suspicions.— 4. 
Who were the poisoners ? — 5. Concluding remarks. 

Note.— Singular details of the Prince's illness, hy Bishop More. 



PREFACE. 



It is needful I should state at the outset that 
these volumes are designed — not for the critic, or 
the scholar — but for that much -suffering individual, 
the general reader. They contain no views of start- 
ling novelty, which aim at a reversal of the verdict 
history has already pronounced on the men and 
events of the Past ; nor any elaborate antiquarian 
dissertations elucidating— or obscuring — the insig- 
nificant details of some tedious mediaeval chronicle. 
I profess to bring forward no new facts. I have not 
sought to hazard any boldly original opinions. It 
has simply been my object to gather together the 
disjecta membra of various writers, in a readable and 
comprehensive form, and to provide a lucid narra- 
tive of the principal incidents in the careers of our 
English princes, while avoiding as much as possi- 
ble those portions of their lives which may more 



X PREFACE. 

properly be considered the province of the English 
historian. My limits have compelled me to omit 
several interesting biographies — and especially those 
of the sons of George the Third, — but tiiese I hope 
to supply in a Second Series, if the present should 
be honoured by the public with a favourable 
reception. 

Most readers of English history have probably 
desired to know something more of the eventful 
lives of the sons of our sovereigns than the historian 
usually affords. Generally they pass across the 
crowded page like phantom-shadows, and the 
reader knows not whence they come or whither they 
go. To meet this want has been my object. It 
was no part of my original plan to include those 
princes who in due time ascended the throne, but it 
seemed necessary to make an exception in the case 
of Edward the Fifth,, whose "baby brow" bore the 
circle of royalty but three short months, and James 
the Second, whose career, both before his accession 
and after his deposition, was ot historical importance 
but hardly a portion of English history. For the 
same reason I have included memoirs of the Duke 
of Monmouth, — Prince James Frederick, the Che- 
valier,— and Prince Charles Edward, the chivalric 
hero of the rebellion of the '45. 

These unpretending narratives are based upon the 



PREFACE. XI 

best authorities ; but to avoid encumbering the page 
with frequent references, I have prefixed to each 
chapter a list of the writers I have mainly con- 
sulted. 

That there are errors and short-comings in my 
work — much of which was executed in a season of 
severe illness — the keen critic will, perhaps, detect; 
but I am, nevertheless, sanguine that its honesty 
and conciseness will commend it to his favourable 
consideration. And in the hope that my sketches 
may agreeably occupy a leisure hour ; may prove of 
some service as offering at once a companion and a 
supplement to our popular histories ; I now submit 
them to the notice of the Public. 

w. H. D. A. 
London, May, 1863. 



CHAPTER I. 



PRINCE EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK THE 

BLACK PRINCE. 



1. The OPENrNG of a Great Career. — 2. The Fight at 
Crecy. — 3. The Fight at Poitiers. — 4. The Love-match, 
AND THE Fair Maid of Kent. — 5. A Spanish Ally. — 
6. The Close of a Great Career. — 7. Last Words. 



[Authorities. — Barnes' Life of Edward the 3rd; Froissart's 
Chronicles; Mezerai, Histoire De France; Wright's Political 
Songs ; Memoires de Guesclin ; the French King Conquered by 
the English, published in 1678 ; Grose's Military Antiquities; 
Lingard's History of England ; Doran's Book of the Princes of 
Wales ; the Archasologia ; Canon Stanley's Historical Memorials 
of Canterbury ; Strickland's Queens of England ; Arthur Collins 's 
Life of the Black Prince ; etc., etc.] 



CHAPTER I. 



EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK, SURNAMED " THE 
BLACK prince/' 



" The knight's bones are dust, 
And his good sword rust, 
His soul is with the saints I trust." 

CoiiERIDGB. 
I. 

THE OPENING OF A GREAT CAREER. 

i. Foremost among the heroes of English 
history — chief figure on the lurid canvas 
which glows with the pageantry of knights 
and barons — stands the successful warrior, 
the prudent statesman, and the gentleman, 
'' sans peur et sans reproche^^^ whom our chron- 
iclers have loved to celebrate as Edward, the 
Black Prince. It is not too much to say that 
in him the observer may behold the very 
mirror of knighthood, and recognise his bril- 
liant career as illustrative of all that was 

VOL. I. B 



4 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

brightest and best ia the feudal institution of 
chivalry. Apart, therefore, from the romance 
of its incidents, from its admirable generosity, 
and truth, and pm-ity ; the life of the Black 
Prince will always possess a peculiar interest 
for the philosophical student, for him who seeks 
to learn from history the social changes and 
internal condition of a country as indicated by 
the actions and achievements of its most il- 
lustrious sons. 

ii. Edward, eldest son of Edward III., the 
"greatest of the Plantagenets/' and of the 
buxom and devoted Philippa of Hainault, was 
born at the old palace of Woodstock, in Ox- 
fordshire, on Friday, the 15th of June, 1330, 
at ten o'clock in the morning. 

His birth was the signal for national re- 
joicings of unusual sincerity and enthusiasm, 
which did but reflect the proud happiness of 
his young and ardent parents.*"' Even as a 
babe the future warrior was distinguished by 
" the beauty of his shape, the largeness of his 
size, and the firm contexture of his body.'' 
Both he and his mother figure on the canvas 
of contemporary artists, as the infant Jesus 

* His father conferred an annuity of £100 on the young prince's 
nurse, Joan of Oxford, and ten marks on his rocker ^ Maud of Plump- 
ton. 



HIS EDUCATION. 5 

and Madonna. Physiologists may, therefore, 
moralise on the fact that, in contravention of 
usual restrictions of court etiquette, Philippa 
nursed her babe herself. " The good lady," 
says Barnes, quaintly, '' took such great care 
of this first dear pledge of her marriage-bed, 
that she resolved to give him her own breasts, 
as indeed, she did to all her children after ; 
yet for all that, her beauty and flower of 
youth was nothing impaired thereby." 

iii. As he grew in years, due care was 
taken that the graces of his mind should equal 
the charms of his person. Dr. Walter Bur- 
leigh, a man of high principle as well as of ex- 
traordinary erudition, who had been educated 
at Merton College — one of the most famous of 
the famous halls of Oxford — and in whom so 
much confidence was reposed by Queen 
Philippa that she named him her almoner, 
was appointed to superintend the studies of 
the youthful prince. His kinsman, young 
Simon Burley (or Burleigh) was one of Ed- 
ward's playfellows, and continued attached to 
his service throughout his later life. 

iv. Tradition places the scene of Prince 
Edward's studies at the new college in 
Oxford, which Dr. Burleigh had founded, and 



6 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

named " Queen's College/' in honour of his 
royal patroness. It is now considerably 
changed from the quaint mediaeval structure 
that sheltered Philippa's illustrious son ; but 
there still endure some antique ceremonies on 
which his eyes must have rested, and in which 
he himself must have played his part. " You 
may still hear," says Canon Stanley, " the 
students summoned to dinner, as he, was, by 
the sound of a trumpet, and in the hall you 
may still see, as he saw, the Fellows sitting 
all on one side of the table, with the Head of 
the College in the centre, in imitation of the 
' Last Supper,' as it is commonly represented 
in pictures. The very names of the Head and 
twelve Fellows (the number first appointed by 
the Founder, in likeness of our Lord and the 
Apostles) who were presiding over the College 
when the prince was there, are known to us. 
He must have seen what has long since 
vanished away, the thirteen beggars, deaf, 
dumb, maimed, or blind, daily brought into 
the Hall, to receive their dole of bread, beer, 
potage, and fish. He must have seen the 
seventy poor scholars, instituted after the 
example of the seventy disciples, and learn- 
ing from their two chaplains to chant the 



HIS HONOURS. 7 

service. He must have heard the mill within 
or hard by the college walls, grinding the 
Fellows' bread. He must have seen the 
porter of the college going round the rooms 
betimes in the morning to shave the beards 
and wash the heads of the Fellows. In these 
and many other curious particulars, we can 
tell exactly what the customs and appearance 
of the College were when the prince was 
there."''* 

V. Even from his earliest youth his kingly 
father loved to load this best loved child of 
his affections with dignities and honours. 
When but three years old he was made Earl 
of Chester, and endowed with revenues and 
estates suitable to his rank. Four years later, 
(a. d. 1336) on the death of John of Eltham, 
Earl of Cornwall, he was created Duke of 
Cornwall, receiving investiture with the sword, 
— the first creation of a dukedom known in 
England."]" The county of Cornwall was set 
apart as the appanage of this new dignity, 
and to distinguish the occasion with special 
splendour, six of the noblest of the barons of 
Eno-land were raised to the rank of Earls. 



* Historical Memorials of Canterbury. 
t Seidell's Titles of Honour. 



8 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

His next elevation (17 Edward III.) was to 
the principality of Wales, when, we are told, 
he was invested with a coronet, a ring of gold, 
and a silver rod; and further revenues were 
granted by the free hand of his royal father to 
enable him in a fitting manner to maintain 
the splendour of his princely state. 

vi. One of his earliest appearances in public 
life took place in 1338, when, by commission 
from his father, he held a Parliament at 
Northampton (26th July), and his manner and 
address so won upon the knights and nobles 
there assembled, that, with singular unanimity, 
they voted the king " a mighty aid'' for the 
maintenance of his wars. Edward, at this time, 
was prosecuting with characteristic energy 
his designs upon the French throne ; and after 
a brilliant display of his warlike resources and 
military genius, had resolved to keep the 
Christmas of 1339 at Antwerp, with extra- 
ordinary state and splendour. Thither he 
summoned his queen, the generous Philippa : 
and the beauties of her glittering court ; and 
many a knight and baron, renowned in arms 
or famous in council. Thither, too, at his 
express desire, repaired his eldest son, a 
proper, hopeful, young gentleman of about ten 



A PROJECTED ALLIANCE. 9 

years of age. " His great grace and exact shape 
made him as acceptable to the ladies* ^y^s, 
as his large and well-proportioned limbs 
raised a full expectation of his future man- 
hood among the lords, both of England and 
Alemain/' A matrimonial alliance was now 
projected between him and the Lady Margaret, 
the Duke of Brabant's daughter, but though 
the negotiations were protracted over many 
months they never grew to a successful result, 
and the young and chivalrous Prince was left 
free to fix his fancy upon the loveliness of 
his cousin, Joan, so famous in the annals of 
our English beauties, as the " Fair Maid of 
Kent.'' 

II. 

THE FIGHT AT CRECY. 

i. Prince Edward was only fifteen years of 
age when he began his military career, and 
was summoned by his father to assist him in 
the prosecution of his campaigns in France. 

ii. It is unnecessary for us, heie, to dilate 
upon the causes of that gfedt French war, 
which the victories of Crecy and Poitiers have 

B 5 • 



10 EDWAKD OF WOODSTOCK. 

rendered a portion of our national glory. 
Modern historians unanimously admit that the 
pretensions which Edward the III. put forth 
to the crown of France were as unjustifiable 
as they were impolitic, and based upon no 
solid foundation of right. They were rendered 
untenable by the provisions of the Salic Law, 
while, supposing that the French nobles had 
consented to its abrogation, Edward would 
then have ceased to be the nearest heir. It 
was a war of conquest — a war of ambition ; 
but it was, nevertheless, a war in which the 
heart of the people, as well as the pride of 
their king, was thoroughly engaged. The 
ballads and songs of the period abundantly 
prove its popularity with the great majority 
of the nation, while they vividly illustrate 
the intensity of the hatred which then ex- 
isted between France and England. The easy 
victories won by King Edward and his hero- 
spn augmented this hatred, or rather deepened 
it into scorn, while they confirmed the English- 
man's belief in his invincible prowess and 
natural superiority. The ballad writers of 
the days of the Plantagenets, positively 
luxuriate in contemptuous bursts of song. 



CONTEMPORARY BALLADS. 11 

Thus, after Crecy, one of those powerful 
exponents and influential instigators of popu- 
lar feeling, exclaims, with contumelious 
laughter, — 



" Was thou noght, Franceis, with thy wapin, 

Betwixen Cressy and Abyle : 
Whare thi plaws lien and gapin, 

For all thaire treget* and thaire gile ? 
Biscoppes war thare in that while 

That songen al withouten stole. 
Philip the Yalas was a file, 

He fled, and durst noght tak his dole.f 



' Men delid thare ful mani a dint 

Omang the gentill Genevayse ; 
Ful mani man thaire lives tintj 

For luf of Philip the Yalays. 
Unkind he was and uncurtayse, 

I prais no thing his purviance,§ 
The best of France and of Artayse — 

War al to-dongyn |1 in that daunce.' 



A still more remakable illustration of the 
national hatred is furnished in the pungent 
Latin " Dialogue between an Englishman 
and a Frenchman," printed by Mr. Wright, 
in his valuable collection of political songs. 
Here is a curious instance of the freedom with 



* Treachery. f Share. X Lost. The word tint is still in vogue 
in Scotland. § I cannot praise his foresight. || Were utterly and 
entirely routed. 



12 EDWAED OF WOODSTOCK. 

which, even in the 14:th century, an English 
balladist could treat " a crowned head :" 

" When Sir Philip of France herd tell 
That King Edward in feld walld dwell, 

Than gayned him no gle ; 
He traisted of no better bote, 
But both on hors and on fote 

He hasted him to fle." 

ii. In a popular poem of the period, the 
"Vow of the Heron," so singular an original 
is attributed to Edward's hostility against 
France, and so interesting a picture of feudal 
manners and feelings is presented, that our 
readers may not be indisposed to permit its 
introduction in an abridged form as an episode 
in our narrative. 

The poet invites our attention, at the out- 
set, to one Eobert of Artois, who nourishes 
an inextinguishable hatred against the French 
sovereign, on account of his banishment from 
France, and the confiscation of his estates. 
He repairs to England, and seeks to arouse 
in King Edward's mind an ambitious desire 
to effect the subjugation of his powerful neigh- 
bour. One day, in September, 1338, while 
hunting in the greenwoods, he lights upon a 
heron, and causing it immediately to be 
properly dressed, has it borne upon a dish, 



THE TOW OF THE HERON. 13 

loj two pages in rich attire, into the presence 
of the rojal Plantagenet, as he sits at dinner, 
with his queen, knighls, nobles, and ladies, 
thinking of far lighter themes than siege or 
battle. " The heron," says bold Eobert of 
Artois, confronting the king, " is a cowardly 
bird, and therefore shall I give it to the 
greatest coward here ; even to you, Sir King, 
unless you vow upon it to do some deed 
worthy of a courageous knight, and swear to 
avenge our wrongs upon the treacherous 
sovereign of France." 

To such an appeal the chivalrous soul of 
King Edward inspires but one reply ; and he 
swears upon the Heron that he will straight- 
way invade France with fire and sword, and 
humiliate Philip of Valois. 



*' Mes a li je renonche, sois en cherteins et fis, 
Car je le guerreray et en fais et en dis. 
Avec mon serment ay-je che veu pourprins." 



iii. Elate with his success, Eobert now 
turns to the famous Earl of Salisbury, the 
loyal lover of the fair daughter of the Earl 
of Derby, and demands of him, too, a Vow 
upon ihe Heron. The Earl addresses his 
lady-love in moving terms, and beseeches her 



14 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

to place two of her delicate fingers on his 
eye: — 

" Les deux dois sur I'ceil destre li mist isnelement, 
Et se li a clos I'oeil et freme fermement. 
Et chix a demande moult gracieusement, 
* Bele, est 11 bien clos ? ' ' Oyl, certainement.' " 

'* Beauty, is the eye quite closed?^' he en- 
quires. " Even so/^ replies his mistress. 
" Then," continues the Earl, " I vow and 
promise by the All-Power ful God, and the 
mild mother of loveliness resplendent, that it 
shall not again be opened, spite of wind or 
weather, until I have fought the French in de- 
fence of the rights of my liege-lord, the King. 

*' Adonc dis de la bouche du coeur le pensement. 
' Et je veu et prometh a Dieu omnipotent, 
Et a sa douche mere que de beaute resplent, 
Qu' il n'ert jamais ouvers, pour ore ne pour vent, 
Si seray dedans Franche,' " etc. 

iv. In her turn, the fair daughter of the 
Eai;l of Derby vows : — 

" Car je veu et prometh a Dieu de Paradis, 
Que je n'arai mari, pour homme que soit vis. 
Pour due, conte, ne princhedomaine, ne marchis, 
Devant que chieux vassal aura tous acomplis 
Le veu que pour m'amour a si haut enterprins ; 
Et quant il revenra, s'il en escape vis, 
Le mien cors li stroit de bon coeur a toudis." 

" I VOW and promise," sighs the tender 
Beauty — afterwards so famous as the tradi- 
tional cause of the institution of the Garter — ■ 



TgE VOW OF THE HERON. 15 

" that I will listen to the love speeches of no 
man, neither duke nor count, neither sove- 
reign, prince, nor marquis, until the Earl 
shall have accomplished the vow which, for 
love of me, he has undertaken, and when he 
returns, if he escapes the war, my heart shall 
be his of all truth and right/ ^ 

V. Thus the Heron continues to draw 
from baron and knight their several vows; 
each striving to excel the other in the pre- 
sence of so many dazzling brows and starry 
eyes ; until, at length, it reaches the Queen 
herself, the stately and resolute Philip pa of 
Hainault. Her vow is strangely illustrative 
of the license of language which lords and 
ladies of " high degree'' permitted themselves 
in the olden time. " I cannot vow," she 
says, " because I have a lord whom my vow 
will bind. I must first wait for his com- 
mand." The King immediately replies,-— 
" Vou^s, mes corps Taquittera. Make thy 
vow, and my body shall fulfil it." " Then I 
vow," says Queen Philippa, — 

" Que ja li fruis de moi de mon corps n'istera, 
Si m'en ares menee ou pais par dela, 
Pour avanchier le veu que vo corps voue a. 
Et s'il en voelh isir, quant besoins n'en sera 
D'un grand coutil d'achier li miens corps s' ochira ; 
Serai n'asme perdue et li fruis perira." 



16 EDWAKD OF WOODSTOCK. 

" That the fruit of my womb shall not leap 
into life until the vow you, my lord, have 
sworn, shall have been accomplished. And 
rather than that it should quicken, with a 
large knife will I rend my womb, so that 
both myself and my issue shall perish.'' 

VI. King Edward appears to have been 
startled by his queen's out-spoken resolve, 
and gravely said, " After this I think that no 
one will vow more.'' And Eobert of Artois, 
says the poet, went his way rejoicing, and 
proud of the success of his. simple stratagem ; 
and so we are told to believe that from these 
'' Vows of the Heron" sprang the terrible war 
which desolated France, and absolved the 
blood and treasure of England for so many 
years. 

vii. That this remarkable legend is not 
authentic, we need hardly say, and yet it 
probably was built up on some slight sub- 
stratum of fact. Chivalry delighted in such 
vows as these, and in forms and observances 
which our more prosaic age not unjustly 
stigmatizes as ridiculous and even indecent. 
Froissart tells us of certain young English 
lachelers who appeared at a grand French 
festival, each with one eye covered by a patch 



THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY. 17 

of black cloth ; and he says it was understood 
that these fantastic squires of the sword had 
sworn to keep their eyes so covered, until 
each had done some doughty deed in battle 
with the men of France. 

viii. It is, however, the spirit of Chivalry 
which the poet reverences, and the philoso- 
phical student is able to appreciate ; that 
spirit which flung a ray of light upon the 
darkness of medioev^al ignorance, and, allied 
with the spirit of religion, introduced some- 
thing of love and mercy to temper the bar- 
barous cruelty of the feudal age. Chivalry 
had its lights as well as its shadows, and bore 
the palm and the cross even if it wielded the 
sword. It was the protection of the weak, 
the refuge of the oppressed, the terror of the 
tyrant: valour, humanity, courtesy, justice, 
honour, were its characteristic qualities. " It 
contributed,' ' says Sir James Mackintosh, " to 
polish and soften Europe. It paved the way 
for that diffusion of knowledge and extension 
of commerce which afterwards in some mea- 
sure supplanted it, and gave a new character 
to manners.''* But society is " inevitably 
progressive." New social conditions demand 

* Vindicise Gallicse. 



IS EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

new institutions; and the ancient principle 
abandons its former embodiment to assume a 
fresh development. Thus, then, the old forms, 
the old observances, wane and die away, as 
" the thoughts of men are widened with the 
process of the suns ; " but the soul survives, 
and will continue to survive, so long as man 
is not insensible to love and loyalty, charity, 
truth, and honour ! 

ix. Eeturning to our narrative, we would 
ask the reader to take note of the popular 
ballads we have quoted — the straws which 
show the direction taken by the strong cur- 
rent of national feeling — as affording suf&- 
cient explanation of the fact that Edward 
III., with inferior resources, with smaller 
armies, and at a distance from his arsenals 
and granaries, could overpower the strength 
and chivalry of France, and reduce it for a 
time to the position of a subjugated de- 
pendency. Mr. Hallam, in his philosophical 
" View of the State of Europe during the 
Middle Ages," has summed up, with admir- 
able distinctness, the various causes of King 
Edward's swift and complete success: — 

"The great advantage,'* he says, " which, 
the English sovereign possessed in this con- 



WAR WITH FRANCE. 19 

test was derived from the splendour of his 
personal character, and from the still more 
eminent virtues of his son. Besides prudence 
and military skill, these great princes were 
endowed with qualities peculiarly fitted for 
the times in which they lived. Chivalry was 
then in its zenith ; and in all the qualities 
which adorned the knightly character, in 
courtesy, munificence, gallantry, in all deli- 
cate magnanimous feelings, none were so con- 
spicuous as Edward III. and the Black Prince. 
As later princes have boasted of being the 
finest gentlemen, they might claim to be the 
prowest knights in Europe ; a character not 
quite dissimilar, yet of more high preten- 
sion." 

" Next to the personal qualities of the King 
of England, his resources in this war must be 
taken into the account. It was after long 
hesitation that he assumed the title and arms 
of France, from which, unless upon the best 
terms, he could not recede without honour. 
In the meantime he strengthened himself by 
alliances with the Emperor, with the cities of 
Flanders, and with most of the princes in the 
Netherlands and on the Ehine. But his 
intrinsic strength was at home. England had 



20 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

been growing in riches since tlie wise govern- 
ment of his grandfather, Edward I., and 
through the market opened for her wool with 
the manufacturing towns of Flanders. She 
was tranquil within ; and her northern enemy, 
the Scotch, had been defeated and quelled. 
The parliament, after some slight precautions 
against a very probable effect of Edward's 
conquest of France, the reduction of their own 
island into a province, entered as warmly as 
improvidently, into his quarrel. The people 
made it their own, and grew so intoxicated 
with the victories of this war, that for some 
centuries the injustice and folly of the enter- 
prise do not seem to have struck the gravest 
of our countrymen.'' 

It was with these advantages at his back 
that Edward plunged into a war which medi- 
tated nothing less than the reduction of France 
to the position of a dependency upon Eng- 
land. 

X. He commenced the campaign of 1346 
with his eldest son at his side, who had al- 
ready obtained distinction in the tournay and 
the council ; as possessed of a judgment and 
discretion beyond his years, and singularly 
expert in every military exercise. They 



MILITAKY OPERATIONS. 21 

marched from victory to victory, from success 
to success — ravaging the fairest fields and 
richest valleys of Normandy, and striking 
terror into the very heart of France. The 
gleam of his banners and the clash of his 
clarions had even awakened the streets of 
Paris, when Philip of Valois suddenly started 
from his lethargy, and concentrating his forces 
into one mighty host, resolved to strike 
a blow for his kingly crown. Before the 
advance of the immense army that now 
pressed down upon him, Edward prudently 
retreated, designing to avail himself of the 
resources of friendly Flanders, and to re- 
establish his line of communication with the 
sea-coast. At the same time he intended to 
effect a junction with a body of 40,000 
Flemings, who had invaded France on the 
side of Picardy. In carrying out this well- 
projected movement, he was checked at first 
by the sudden presence of Philip*s army on 
the Seine. He, therefore, rapidly retired upon 
Poissy, while a detachment of his forces 
amused the French king with a feigned at- 
tack upon the capital ; repaired the bridge at 
Poissy ; and carried across his army without 
the loss of even a single foot soldier. Then 



22 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

he swept the country from Pontoise to Beau- 
vais, like a destroying fire ; only drawing 
bridle when he had gained the south bank of 
the Somme. Meanwhile, with an equal swift- 
ness of movement, Philip of Valois descended 
the river in a line almost parallel to that of 
the English march ; gained Amiens, destroyed 
the bridges, secured the fords, and occupied 
every point of vantage inconsiderable strength. 
Next, with the main body of his battalia, 
numbeiing nearly one hundred thousand men, 
he pushed along the left bank of the Somme 
to drive his audacious enemy into the sea, so 
that pursuer and pursued were now both on 
the same side of the river, while a sufficient 
force of the French moved upon the other 
side to dispute the passage if the English 
king attempted to cross. 

xi. King Edward made many attempts to 
force the Somme, that he might pass into 
Picardy; but at Pont St. Remy, at Long, and 
at Pequigny, he found the fords too strongly 
defended. These useless delays gave the 
French king an opportunity of gaining upon 
him, so that at Airaines the English rear had 
not quitted the town two hours before the 
French vanguard entered it. The same even- 



THE FORD AT BLANCHE TAQUE. 23 

ing the English reached Oisemont, but onlj 
to find themselves in a position of peculiar 
peril. Before them the sea ; gathering on 
their rear a threatening cloud of hostile 
lances ; on their flank, the unfordable Somme. 
In this moment of danger the fortune of kings 
came to the assistance of the Plantagenet. 
Among his prisoners was discovered one 
Gobin Agace, " a varlet of Mons/' who, 
well acquainted with the surrounding country, 
offered, for a bribe of eight hundred nobles, 
and freedom for himself and twenty of his 
fellows, to indicate a spot near Abbeville, 
where the Somme was fordable at ebb of 
tide. '' The King of England," says Frois- 
sart, quaintly, "did not sleep much that 
night ; " and, at twelve, the trumpets sounded, 
and the English columns moved down the 
river as far as Blanche Taque (now Blanque- 
taque), the chosen ford, only to find the tide 
at its full, and the opposite bank of the river 
bristling with seven thousand bows and lances, 
under Godemar de Faye ! 

xii. Hour after hour now passed in grievous 
suspense. King Edward and his son moment- 
arily expecting to behold in their rear the glitter 
of the French pikes. But by ten o'clock the 



24 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

tide had so far ebbed thai the passage of the 
river became possible ; and so, with a gallant 
rush and a deep-rolling cheer, " in the name 
of God and St. George," the English hastened 
into the waters, and resolutely battled their 
way across. Not only had they to contend 
with the force of the current, which was swift 
and strong, but with the arrows of the Gene- 
vese archers and the pikes of the French 
infantry. Down went many a steed and his 
rider, and many a varlet was borne away to a 
pitiable death by the rush of the blood 
purpled waters ! The struggle, however, if 
keen, was brief. Before Philip could arrive 
upon the scene, the English had made good 
their footing on the opposite bank, and cap- 
tured two thousand of their opponents. Nor 
could he press forward in pursuit, owing to 
the flow of the returning tide. So the Eng- 
lish took their rest in the fair meadows of 
Crotoy, and made merry with some wine 
opportunely seized on board certain vessels 
which lay in the neighbouring harbour. For 
Edward and his son were well aware that a 
great battle must yet be fought to secure their 
retreat, and, like prudent generals, they de- 
sired to recruit their men by a seasonable 



BATTLE PREPARATIONS. 25 

repose. King Edward was now encamped in 
the lands of Ponthieu, which he inherited 
from his mother; and there, on ground which 
was legitimately his own, he resolved to await 
the onset of the enemy. " I have good reason,'' 
he replied to those of his barons who counselled 
his further retreat into Flanders, " I have 
good reason to wait for them in this place. 
I am now upon the rightful heritage of my 
lady-mother, which was given her in dowry, 
and I will defend it against my adversary, 
Philip of Valois." 

xiii. Accordingly he proceeded to dispose 
his army in order of battle. His position was 
a favourable one, upon an ascent which rose 
behind the village and woods of Cre^y, about 
fifteen miles to the east of Abbeville. The 
river Maze was on his right, and the village 
of Wadicourt left. The horses and baggage 
were stationed in the rear, protected by the 
well-wooded enclosure of Cregy la Grange. 
For every knight a station was carefully 
selected, where he might plant his banner, 
and assemble his men-at-arms. Then there 
was a burnishing of shield and crest, and a 
sharpening of lance and spear, and the knight 

VOL. I. c 



26 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

looked to his coat of mail, and the archer to 
his bow and arrows. Eound the watch-fires 
gathered joyous groups of England's stalwart 
yeomen, who made merry over their wine- 
cups with the thoughts of certain victory 
on the morrow. In the royal pavilion. King 
Edward entertained his barons and chief cap- 
tains, and afterwards, retiring into his oratory, 
threw himself on his knees before the altar, 
and prayed that " God would preserve his 
honour.'' Dunng that anxious and eventful 
night the great Plantagenet*s slumbers were 
sorely troubled. He rose at break of dawn, 
received the Lord's Supper with his princely 
son, whom he had caused to clothe himself in 
armour entirely black, and proceeded to array 
his forces. [Saturday, August 28, 1346]. 

xiv. The English army was set forth in 
three divisions. The first was led by the 
young Prince of Wales, who was supported 
by the Earls of Oxford and Warwick ; Lords 
Cobham, Holland, Stafford, and Clifford ; Sir 
Eichard de Beaumont, John Chandos, and 
Geoffrey d'Harcourt. The second^ stationed 
a few paces in the rear, was commanded 
by the Earls of Arundel and Northampton, 
Lords Willoughby, Basset, and Lascelles. 



THE ENGLISH FOECES. 27 

The third^ forming tlie reserve, was posted on 

tlie summit of the hill of Cre^ j, and headed 

bj the king in person. The bowmen were 

distributed in front of each division, and 

drawn up in the wedge-like fashion of the 

Macedonian phalanx. And well did they do 

their duty on this memorable day ! " Au 

vray dire," says Froissart, "les archresd'An- 

gleterre faisoient a leurs gens grand avantage. 

Car ils tiroyent tant empressement, que les 

Francois ne scavoyent dequel coste entendre, 

qu'ils ne fiissent consuyvis de trayt ; et s'avan- 

coyent tous jours ces Anglois, et petit a petit 

enqueroyent terre." (To speak truly, the 

English bowmen did much advantage their 

countrymen. For they shot their arrows 

with such eagerness that the French did not 

know on what side to turn in order to escape 

them ; and these English still pressed forward, 

step by step, and surely gaining ground.) 

XV. King Edward's forces at Cregy were 
thus composed : — 





Men at- Arms 


1. Archers. Light Infkntry. 


1st Division 


800 


2,000 1,000 Welshmen, 
armed with skeans, or long knives. 


2nd do. 


800 


1,200 


3!rd do. 


700 


2,000 

c 2 



28 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

In advance of their position were stationed 
four wonderful engines, whose powers were 
then neither developed nor comprehended, 
but which were destined to revolutionise the 
whole art of warfare. These cannons, or 
bombards^ by the terror they struck in the 
enemy's crowded ranks, probably contributed, 
in no small measure, to the magnitude of the 
victory of Cre^y. " By means of fire," says 
Villani, " they shot small balls of iron with a 
report like the thunder of God, causing the 
slaughter of the men and the overthrow of the 
horse." Un wieldly, rough, and imperfect, as 
they necessarily were, we cannot doubt but 
that wounds inflicted by an agency so myste- 
rious, would convulse the disorderly masses 
of the French with panic dread. 

xvi. King Edward, having thus arrayed his 
forces, clothed himself in a doublet of green 
velvet, embroidered with gold tissue, and 
mounting his white "hobby," rode, with a 
marshal on either hand, up and down the 
serried files, encouraging his men by* the 
serene confidence of his noble brow, and the 
calm dignity of his martial bearing. Nor was 
the aspect 'of his son less confident, or his 
mien less chivalrous. About nine in the 



PROGKESS OF THE FRENCH. 29 

morning, which, was gloomy and overcast, the 
king ordered his men to eat and drink at their 
leisure; and, afterwards, they, sitting down 
in their places on the ground, with their hel- 
mets before them, and their bows carefully 
put away in their cases to prevent injury 
from the damp, calmly expected the enemy^s 
advance. 

xvii. Leaving King Edward and his barons 
to sm'vey, with the assurance of victory, the 
strong-hearted Englishmen assembled under 
the ''banner of St. George," we now proceed 
to trace the movements of Philip of Valois 
and his mighty army. 

Baffled by Edward's successful passage of 
the Somme, the French king retired upon 
Abbeville, where he lost a day in waiting 
for reinforcements, and especially for a thou- 
sand lances whom three months previously 
he had hired of the Count of Savoy. At 
length he put his un wieldly host in motion ; 
and all along the roads, their numbers swelled 
by the peasantry of the neighbouring villages, 
the frantic battalions rolled and heaved — like 
the billows of a wind-swept sea — crying 
'' kill ! kill ! " drawing their swords, and 
lusting after their prey. Among the fore- 



30 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

most, — ^heated with rage and wounded pride, 
moodj, silent, and luridly frowning, — rode 
Philip of Valois, utterly unable to control 
or direct the tumultuous masses which 
gathered in his rear. When he came in sight 
of the well-ordered array of the English 
battle, he discovered that he had ridden far 
a-head of the main body of his army. He 
determined, therefore, to adopt the council of 
a Bohemian captain, and defer his attack 
until the morrow ; and for this purpose dis- 
patched two of his knights to check the 
advance of his troops. ''Halt, banners !'' 
they cried; ''in the name of God and St. 
Denis!" The vanguard paused; but those 
in the rear began to press upon them, swear- 
ing they would not halt until they could take 
place amongst the foremost. Seeing that 
such was their design, the van, in their turn, 
again moved forward; nor ceased the roll 
and rush of the inflamed soldiery until they 
drew within bowshot of the English camp. 
Then, indeed, as Philip looked upon the calm 
faces of his hated enemies, " his blood 
changed," and abandoning all the self-control 
of a prudent leader, he cried, passionately, 
— " Let the Genoese advance, and begin 



THE TWO BANNERS. 31 

the battle, in the name of God and St. 
Denis !" 

xviii. " At that very instant," — to make 
use of the picturesque language of old Joshua 
Barnes, — " before the armies engaged, there 
fell suddenly a smart shower of rain, accom- 
panied with loud thunders, and a short 
eclipse of the sun ; before which storm there 
flew over the host an infinite number of 
ravens, and other birds of prey, crying and 
cawing, which the old king of Bohemia hear- 
ing of, said to those about him, 'How that 
was indeed a Prodigy and an Evil Token ; 
for it signified many carcases would fall ! ' 
But immediately the air began to clear again, 
and the burning sun appearing out of a cloud 
at the Englishmen's backs, darted his rays 
full in the Frenchmen's faces, and made a 
spacious rainbow." 

xix. And now the French sovereign ordered 
the great " Oriflamme," embroidered with 
golden lilies, — the sacred Banner of France, 
— to be unfurled, as a sign that in the on- 
coming battle no quarter would be given. 
And in like manner, and with a like mean- 
ing, king Edward advanced his '' Burning 
Dragon ; " and considering the imminent 



32 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

hazard to which England would be exposed 
if he fell in the approaching fight, gave up 
the immediate command of the army to the 
Black Prince, and retired with a powerful 
reserve to the hill of Cre^y, whence he could 
survey the entire field of battle. 

XX. The fray was begun by the Genoese 
crossbows — about 15,000 stout and well- 
trained varlets — led by Dukes Doria and 
Grimaldi ; but these having already marched 
some eighteen miles that day, soon grew faint 
with the intolerable burden of their heavy 
armour. They sent a message to King 
Philip —" We are not fit to achieve any great 
deeds of battle this day, for we stand in need 
of rest.'^ Then outspake the Duke d^Alengon, 
Philip's brother: — "And is such our recom- 
pense for employing these knaves ? Do they 
fail us in our hour of need?" The Genoese 
heard the reproach, and felt it. Forming in 
silence, they moved to the front, supported by 
D'AleuQon and his heavily-armed cavalry. 
The sudden sunshine dazzled their eyes, and 
somewhat discomposed their array ; but they 
still pressed forward, with three mighty shouts, 
vainly thinking thus to terrify the English. 
Then they discharged their crossbows, but 



THE ENGLISH AECHERS. 33 

with little effect, the strings being wet with 
the heavy rain. Far different was the dis- 
charge from the English bows. They had kept 
their good yews covered in their cases, and 
now, stepping forw2ird one pace, plied them 
with deadly force. Like a storm of hail their 
shafts descended upon the startled Genoese, 
and the dismayed men-at-arms ! As the old 
balladist sings, — 

*' Through armour thick and thin, 
They pierced, and entered in." 

Through hauberk and cuirass, through shield, 
and helm ; through head, and neck, and hand, 
and arm; crashed the ceaseless shafts, until 
the bowmen could endure no longer, but 
turned upon their heels and fled, smitten by 
a terrible panic. '' Kill me those cravens,'' 
cried the infuriate Philip, as the fugitives 
sped by, " they block up our path, and do us 
no good !" His men-at-arms were by no 
means loth to obey his commands, so that the 
hapless Genoese suffered alike from friend 
and foe. 

xxi. And now, while the mass was thus 
disordered, the thunder of the English bom- 
bards broke upon it ; and fearful was the 

c 5 



34 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

slaughter before D'Alen^on could extricate 
his men-at-arms from the melee^ and avoiding 
as best he might the English archers, led 
them against the flank of Prince Edward^s 
division. Unequal enough had been the 
struggle, if Providence were always on the 
side of les gros hataillons ; but Edward and 
his knights had stout hearts and stalwart 
arms, and opposed themselves to the French 
onset like an impenetrable wall. So hot be- 
came the fight that the Earl of Warwick lost 
heart of grace, and despatched Sir Thomas 
Norwich to the King, requesting him to lead 
the reserve to his son's assistance. The rojal 
Plantagenet, bare-headed, watched from a 
windmill which still crowns the height of 
Cregy, the progress of the battle, and with the 
keen glance of a great military genius, had 
discovered that the victory would be with 
England. '' Is my son hurt,'' he said to Sir 
Thomas Norwich, '^ or dead, or felled to the 
earth ?" " No, sire," was the reply ; " but he is 
heavily beset, and hath need of your help." 
" Go you back, then," said the King, '' and 
bid them that sent you, trouble me no further 
while my son is living. Let him take care 



GALLANTRY OF THE PRINCE. 35 

to win his spurs,* and to deserve the honour of 
knighthood which I so lately conferred upon 
him. For I an resolved, by the grace of God, 
that the glory of this day shall be his and 
yours/* These chivalrous words being re- 
peated to the Prince's captains, gave them 
great encouragement, and they felt wroth 
with themselves that ever they had sent so 
craven a message to their hero-king. 

xxii. Yet had the young prince, truly, 
been in no slight peril. He had fought with 
the constancy of a veteran, and yet, with all 
the ardour of youth, plunged in the thickest of 
the press ; when unhorsed, and beaten to the 
ground, he was only saved from death by the 
ready courage of gallant Sir Eichard de 
Beaumont, the Standard-Bear er of Wales, 
who concealed his prostrate body with the 
folds of the great Banner of the Principality, 
and manfully stood over him until the as- 
sailants were driven back. 

xxiii. Far into the autumn-night, and 
even to the dawn of the Sabbath, the rout 
continued, and every hour the English seized 
upon victory with a firmer grasp. D' AlenQon, 



* This expression has become proverbial. The young Prince had 
been knighted only a month before. 



36 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

the ablest of the French captains, fell in his 
vain attempt to turn the flank of Prince 
Edward^ s small but gallant band, and with 
him perished all hopes of success for the 
Oriflamme of France. The old King of 
Bohemia, Jean of Luxemburg, who, blind and 
aged, but guided by two of his esquires, had 
ridden into the fray, and done his duty like a 
noble knight,'*' had also fallen ; while among 
those who fell beneath the long knives of the 
furious Welshmen, were the Dukes of Lorraine 
and Bourbon, and the Counts of Flanders, 
Aumale, Vaudemont, and Blois. " Two 
bischoppis,'^ says Capgrave, " viii. erles, two 
thousand knytes and much othir peeple, were 
eyther slayn or put to flite." Philip himself, 
who had displayed a wonderful brilliancy of 



* " The valiant King of Bohemia," says Froissart, " for all that 
he was nigh blind, when he understood the order of the battle, said 
to those about him, ' Where is the lord Charles, my son ?' The sire 
rejoined, 'Sire, we cannot tell, but we think he be fighting.' Then 
said the King, ' Sirs, ye are my men, my companions and friends on 
this day ; I order you to lead me so far forward that I may strike one 
stroke with ray sword ' They said they would do his commandment; 
and to the intent that they might not lose him in the press, they 
tied together all the reins of their bridles, and set the king in ad- 
vance to accomplish his desire, and so they spurred against their 
enemies. The Lord Charles of Bohemia, his son, who called himself 
King of Bohemia, and bore the royal arms, came in good array to the 
battle ; but when he saw that it went against his side, he departed, I 
cannot tell you which way. The King, his father, was so far forward 
that he struck a stroke with his sword, yea, and more than foar, and 
fought valiantly. And so did his companions, and they adventured so 
much in advance that they were all slain, and the next day they were 
found in their places about the King, with their horses tied to one 
another." 



THE VICTORY. 37 

courage but a sad lack of military skill, was 
forced off the field by John of Hainault. The 
knight, it is said, exclaimed, "Withdraw, 
sire, while it is yet time! Do not sacrifice 
yourself without cause ; for if you have lost 
now, victory may be yours on some other 
field." The King, and half a score compan- 
ions, then rode in hot haste from the disas- 
trous field, spurring through the deep darkness 
to the gates of the Castle of La Broye. '^ Who 
waits without ?" inquired the warder, " Open ! 
Open !'^ impatiently, replied the King ; " it is 
the Fortune of France." There he rested 
for awhile, and refreshed himself with some 
wine ; and, at midnight recommencing his 
hasty flight, drew not rein again until he was 
safe within the walls of Amiens. 

xxiv. The English, meanwhile, had con- 
tinued the pursuit of their flying foe so far, that 
they were constrained to light their torches 
and pile up huge fires to indicate their posi- 
tion to the king. Prince Edward then re- 
paired to the royal presence. His father 
eagerly embraced him, and kissed him, ex- 
claiming — " My fair son, God Almighty give 
you grace to persevere as you have begun ! , 
Now are you my good son, and have acquit- 



38 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

ted yourself right royally. You are well 
worthy of a large kingdom." But the young 
prince bowed himself to the ground, and as- 
cribed all the honour of the fight to the king, 
his father. 

XXV. The next day — the Sabbath — dawned 
in mist and shadow. Edward, scarce com- 
prehending as yet the full extent of his victory, 
sent out a detachment of two thousand archers 
and five hundred horse, to reconnoitre the 
French position. This body, on their march, 
surprised the men-at-arms of Amiens and Beau- 
vais, who, under the guidance of the bellicose 
Bishop of Eouen and the Grand Prior of 
France, were hastening to strengthen an army 
which no longer existed. Sound trumpets, 
and charge ! — Down go men-at-arms and 
footmen, knights, bishop, and prior ! Few 
escape from the melee to spread through the 
sorrowing villages of Picardy their tales of 
the invincible ferocity of " the sea-devils^' of 
England. Then, as the mist rolls off, by the 
wayside — in the open plains — under the shade 
of grateful trees — are discovered the unhappy 
fugitives from the preceding day's battle. 
No mercy even for them ! And on this fatal 
Sabbath morning, more common soldiers are 



"ICH DIEN." 39 

slaughtered than fell in the whole of Satur- 
day's fierce engagement. 

xxvi. Wet with blood, the English regained 
the camp to meet their pious sovereign on his 
return from holy mass ; for in all ages the 
presumptuous blasphemy of man has invoked 
the God of Love and Mercy to sanctify with 
his blessing the scene of slaughter ! The king 
immediately despatched Lords Cobham and 
Stafford, with his heralds, to examine the 
battle field and compute the extent of the 
enemy's loss. At the close of the day they 
completed their dreary mission, and reported 
to their sovereign that the dead included no 
less than 11 nobles and princes, 80 bannerets, 
1200 knights, 1400 squires, and 30,000 com- 
mon men ! 

xxvii. We have mentioned among the illus- 
trious personages who fell at Cre^y, the aged 
John of Luxemburg, King of Bohemia. His 
crest and motto — the ostrich feathers, and 
'' Ich Dien" (I serve) — were at once assumed 
by the Prince of Wales, and have ever since 
remained the distinction of the eldest son of 
the English sovereign."' The victory flung an 

*Thi3 is one of the knotty points which historical antiquarians love 
to discuss, and many authorities deny that the badge of the ostrich- 
feathers originated in the circumstance recorded in the text. But it 



40 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

undying splendour on the young hero's fame, 
who, from Cregy's memorable day, became 
" the darling of the English and the terror of 
the French •/' and who, as the Black Prince, 
so named,*'* it is said, from the colour of his 
armour — en armure noire en fer hruni — stands 
nobly conspicuous in the glittering ranks of 
chivalry, as its most successful warrior and 
noblest knight. 

xxviii. The dead having been buried — • 
lords and knights in the cemetery of the 
Abbey of Montenay, and bowmen and pike- 
men on the fatal field where they had fallen 
— King Edward and his son drew off their 
battalions from Cre^y, and moved against 
Calais, sitting down before that important 
seaport on Thursday, August 31, 1346. It 
was defended by the townsmen and garrison 
with sino-ular heroism, the most terrible 



is certain that it was not worn by a Prince of Wales until after the 
battle of Crecy ; that it was vroxn by tbe Black Prince, and that the 
ostrich-feather was the device proper to the King of Bohemia as Count 
of Luxemburg. We adopt, therefore, the old tradition, and be it re- 
membered that in most old traditions survives a spirit of truth. Tra- 
dition is the History accepted by the multitude. The motto, " Ich 
Dien," however, has no claim to a Bohemian original, and was pro- 
bably assumed by Edward as indicating his general loyalty — his ready 
service to the king his father, the lady he served, and the country he 
adorned. See an exhaustive paper (by Sir Harris Nicholas) in the 
"Archseologia," vol. xxxi; and Mr. Albert Way's contribution to Canon 
Stanley's *' Historical Memorials of Canterbury." 

* It is stated by some historians that he obtained his surname of 
" Le Noir" from the terror with which he was regarded by the people 
of France. 



WAR EXPENSES. 41 

hardships from famine and disease being 
cheerftilly endured. 

xxix. Early in 1347, Prince Edward re- 
tmned into England to superintend the 
despatch of supplies to the beleaguering force. 
This task completed, he rejoined his royal 
father, who still lay before Calais, and when, 
after a protracted blockade of eleven months, 
the doomed city finally surrendered, he 
brought his influence to bear, with that of 
his queenly mother, on the passionate souL of 
the great Plantagenet, in behalf of the hap- 
less citizens who had fallen into his hands. 
His services during the siege were important. 
On one occasion he led a body of troops on a 
fierce foray into the neighbouring country, 
riding some thirty leagues beyond Calais, as 
far as the river Somme, and gathering a con- 
siderable booty. 

XXX. A remarkable illustration of "war 
expences,'' in connection with the expedition 
into Normandy, and the siege of Calais, is 
afforded by a contemporary chronicler.* It 
appears that " my Lord the Prince " received 
as his daily pay £1 • the Bishop of Durham 
6s. 8d. ; thirteen earls, each 6s. 8d. ; forty- 

* Quoted in Grose's Military Antiquities. 



42 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

five barons and bannerets, eacli 4s. Od. ; one 
thousand and forty-six knights, each 2s. Od. ; 
four thousand and twenty-two esquires, con- 
stables, and captains. Is. Od. each ; five thou- 
sand one hundred and forty vintenars and 
mounted archers, 6d. each; three hundred 
and thirty-five pauncenars and five hundred 
hobblers (light armed horsemen), a small 
daily wage not named ; fifteen thousand four 
hundred and eighty foot archers, 3d. each, 
per diem ; three hundred and fourteen masons, 
carpenters, smiths, and others, from 3d. to 
12d. each ; four thousand two hundred and 
seventy-four Welsh foot, 2d. each, and two 
hundred Welsh vintenars, 4d. each. The 
total sum expended in wages for the army, 
and the seamen of the fleet (900 sail), which 
conveyed that army to France, amounted, 
from June 4th, 1346, to October 12th, 1347, 
that is a year and 131 days, to £127,201 
2s. 9id., equal to about £1,600,000 of our 
present money. 

xxxi. After the capitulation of Calais, a 
garrison, under Sir Almeric de Pavia, was 
placed in its castle, and Edward and his il- 
lustrious son returned to England in triumph. 
They were received with a truly national 



TREASON AT CALAIS. 43 

welcome, and London, for many weeks, 
blazed with, festal pomp. In the jousts and 
chivalric pastimes which now took place, the 
Black Prince especially distinguished himself, 
wearing on his victorious crest the favours of 
the beautiful Joanna of Kent. But these 
joyous celebrations were suddenly interrupted 
by tidings which reached the king that Sir 
Almeric de Pavia, his castellan at Calais, had 
secretly agreed to surrender the castle to the 
French. The English forces in the town 
were commanded by Sir Walter Manny, a 
gallant and loyal knight, who received from 
his sovereign the instructions necessary for 
his guidance. Shortly afterwards both. 
Edward and the Black Prince arrived at 
Calais, but with the chivalrousness of noble 
minds refused to take the command, and 
fought as common soldiers under his banner. 
Ignorant that his treachery was discovered, 
Sir Almeric prepared to receive the forces of 
the French ; but to his sore surprise, and to 
the confusion of his confederates, the swords 
and lances of the English suddenly broke in 
upon them, and captured or slew almost every 
man. Upon the traitorous Sir Almeric 
justice was duly done, and the king and the 



44 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK, 

prince, having secured the safety of their 
important conquest, again returned to Eng- 
land. 

III. 

THE FIGHT AT POITIERS. 

i. The next decade of Prince Edward's life 
was characterised by few incidents of impor- 
tance. When, in 1349, the king instituted 
the celebrated Order of the Garter, the hero 
of Cre^y and the heir to .the throne was 
necessarily the first knight elected. In the 
year following upon this event, the Knight 
of the Garter displayed his prowess in a new 
sphere of action. A hostile feeling had long 
existed between England and Spain, and the 
great war-ships of the latter nation, infest- 
ing the British seas, did much injury to the 
growing commerce of England, and captured 
several valuable merchantmen, laden with 
Gascony wine. The great Plantagenet could 
ill brook so daring a defiance. In hot haste 
he assembled at Sandwich a fleet of fifty 
small ships and pinnaces, and embarking^ 
with his son and bravest knights, poured 
down upon the Spanish battle (August, 



A SEA-FIGHT. 45 

1350). A fierce engagement ensued ofi* Rye. 
The Prince of Wales and the ships immedi- 
ately under his command, got separated from 
the body of the English fleet, and surrounded 
by a superior force. A large Spanish carrack 
assaulted the Prince's ship, and riddled it 
through with ''bolts of iron" from huge 
arbalests and cross-bows. " She had so 
many holes that the water came in very 
abundantly, so that they could not by any 
means stop the leaks." Edward's brother, 
the young Duke of Lancaster, observing his 
perilous condition, made haste to his assis- 
tance, and the Spaniard was soon over- 
powered and taken possession of, just as the 
Prince's own vessel went down in deep water. 
The battle resulted, on the second day, in 
the victory of the English. Seventeen, or 
as Walsingham says, twenty-six Spanish ships 
were captured, and the king and prince, 
with their prizes, anchored at Eye and Win- 
chelsea, and there disembarked. 

ii. Many matrimonial alliances had been 
projected for the Prince of Wales, but none 
had reached a successful issue. His heart 
had long fixed its deep passionate love upon 
the beautiful Joan, or Joanna, celebrated by 



46 EDWAED OF WOODSTOCK. 

tlie old clironiclers as the "fair maid of 
Kent," and the bright beauty fully recipro- 
cated his devotion. But Edward found it 
impossible to obtain the king's sanction to 
their marriage, and was constrained to wit- 
ness her union, 1351, with Sir Thomas 
Holland, a knight of good repute. He 
proved that his attachment to her was still 
active by becoming sponsor for her two sons, 
the issue of this marriage. 

iii. Meanwhile, the long-enduring emmity 
between France and England continued to 
darken the horizon with the stormy shadows 
of approaching war. Philip of Valois had 
closed his career in 1350, and John, who 
succeeded him, a prince of benevolent feel- 
ings and pacific tendencies, was anxious to 
terminate the cruel strife which had so 
long ravaged his unfortunate country, by 
amicable negotiations with King Edward. 
The English sovereign, nothing loth, agreed 
to renounce his pretensions to the crown of 
France, if John would recognise him as the 
independent suzerain of all the French pro- 
vinces which then belonged, or had at any 
time belonged, to England. King John, 
sincere in his desire to restore peace, order, 



THE WAR RENEWED. 47 

and prosperity, to his disjointed realm, ac- 
cepted the proposition, and envoys, to arrange 
the details of the proposed cession, accord- 
ingly met at Guisnes. But the French nobles, 
when they became aware of the dismember- 
ment of the kingdom projected by the two 
sovereigns, protested against it with such 
menacing vehemence, that John was com- 
pelled to withdraw from the negotiation. 
The ancient hatred between the two peoples 
immediately flamed up, and broke into a 
lurid and deep -burning fire. Both were 
eager to draw the sword, which both had re- 
luctantly sheathed, and hostilities openly 
commenced towards the close of the year 
1354 — the English animated by the recollec- 
tion of past victories, the French by a keen 
sense of the dishonour and humiliation of 
successive defeats. 

iv. Great preparations were made by King 
Edward for his second invasion of France. 
The Black Prince was appointed the king^s 
lieutenant in the dukedom of Aquitaine ; an 
army was speedily collected, and embarking 
on board a numerous fleet, set sail from 
Seaton Haven, in Devonshire, early in Octo- 
ber. In the following spring the prince 



48 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

assembled his forces in his own province of 
Gascony, and departing from Bordeaux, 
swept in a storm of fire across unhappy 
France, nor drew bridle until he reached the 
snowy heights of the Pyrenees. Then, turn- 
ing to the north, he offered the French battle 
under the walls of Thoulouse, but obtaining 
no response to his challenge, again broke 
into the inland provinces, plundered and 
burned the opulent towns of Carcassone and 
Narbonne, and unchecked and triumphant, 
returned to Bordeaux with a vast amount of 
booty. So that "the young Edward," as 
Lingard says, " could boast, that in the short 
space of seven weeks he had lain in ashes 
more than 500 cities, towns, and villages, in 
a populous district, which for a century had 
not been visited with the horrors of war." 
And these are the laurels, wet with the tears 
of the innocent and the blood of the op- 
pressed, which even knights and heroes, such 
as the chivalrous Edward, were content to 
bind around their brows ! 

V. While the Prince accomplished this 
destructive inroad upon the smiling valleys 
and fertile plains of that glorious South of 
France which gave birth to the poetry of the 



WARLIKE EXPLOITS. 49 

Troubadour, his royal father in the north had 
attempted a similar excursion from Calais to 
Amiens, but with a less successful result. The 
French wasted the country before his advance, 
so that from want of supplies he was con- 
strained to retreat. And intelligence arriving 
of a Scotch invasion of England, he hastily 
departed from France, leaving the sole com- 
mand of all the English forces to his illustri- 
ous son. 

vi. That great commander took the field in 
force, in July, 1355. His troops numbered 
about ten thousand, including a body of tried 
and veteran bowmen, and 1900 coats of arms, 
and with this comparatively insignificant 
army he streamed, like a baleful meteor, 
through the Agenois, the Limousin, Querie, 
Berri, and Auvergne. He captured the strong 
towns of Bourges and Issodun ; sacked Vier- 
son; and defeated the combined forces of 
the Seigneurs de Craon, Bouciquaut, and 
L'Hermite de Chaumont. Next he forced the 
town and castle of Eomorantin, reducing them 
to surrender by the use of some rude artillery, 
which resembled, it is said, the bombs and 
grenades of modern warfare. 

VOL. I, D 



50 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

VI. But the French King was now rapldlj 
pushing forward to meet him. He crossed 
the Loire at Blois, and moved with all possible 
speed upon Poitiers, in order to intercept the 
English line of retreat. Thither Prince 
Edward, who was unable to obtain any in- 
formation of his enemy^s movements, was also 
directing his march, intending to retire by way 
of Poitiers and Saintes upon Bordeaux. A 
glance at the map of France will show the 
reader that the French line of advance from 
Blois, and that of the English retreat from 
Eomorantin, gradually converged, and that 
when the French reached Maupertuis, or as it 
is now called. La Cardiniere, a farmstead five 
miles S. of Poitiers, he would necessarily fall 
in with the French king's forces. This actu- 
ally occurred on the 17th of September, 1355. 

vii. When the Black Prince discovered that 
his further retrocession was completely blocked 
up by the masses of the enemy, he exclaimed : 
'^ God help us ! it now only remains for us to 
fight them stoutly. *' Possessing in perfec- 
tion, however, all the qualities of a great 
general — coolness, quickness of perception, 
and fecundity of resource— he immediately 
proceeded to render available every peculiarity 



A MEMORABLE FIELD. 51- 

of his position, and to dispose his scanty force 
so as to secure every point of vantage. 

viii. The battle field — it still retains the 
name — of Poitiers may briefly be described as 
a gentle hollow winding between two undula- 
ting ridges of rising ground. On the loftier 
ridge was posted the English army, about 
8000 strong, — sheltered in its rear by a dense 
wood, and commanding the mouth of a steep 
lane, which wound up the ascent, through a 
thick and intertangled growth of trees and 
vines. The French army gathered tumultu- 
ously on the lower ridge. It numbered some 
60,000 men, displaying 120 banners, and such 
was their confidence in an easy victory that 
the knights and squires disdained to fight on 
horseback, and dismounted. There were three 
divisions of men-at-arms, each numbering 
6000 men; the first, led by the Duke of 
Orleans; the second (or centre), by the Dau- 
phin ; and the rear, by King John, in person. 

ix. Two important battles had already dis- 
tinguished this memorable field. Here the 
Goths were overthrown by Clovis, Kiag of the 
Franks, and Europe was saved from the dark- 
ness of Paganism. Here, at a later period, 

D 2 



52 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

Charles Martel — the " Hammer^ ^ — defeated 
the Saracens, and rescued Christendom from 
the hitherto triumphant Islam. 

X. Sunday, the 18th of September, was 
occupied in a fruitless attempt on the part of 
the amiable Bishop of Poitiers, Cardinal 
Talleyrand, to effect an arrangement between 
the Prince and King John, which should pre- 
vent the carnage of an unnecessary battle. To 
the Prince his condition appeared so desperate, 
that he willingly listened to ^the Cardinal's 
pacific suggestions. " Save my honour," he 
said, "and the honour of my army, and I will 
agree to any reasonable terms.'' He offered 
to give up his prisoners and booty, to sur- 
render all the towns and fortresses he had 
captured, and to undertake not to bear arms 
against the French King for a period of seven 
years. But John was confident of victory. 
He trusted in his immense preponderance of 
force; he burned to wipe out by a signal 
triumph the disgraces recently inflicted on the 
arms of France. The terms which he pro- 
posed were suggested, therefore, by the arro- 
gance of an unmeasured exaltation of spirit. 
The Prince must yield, not only his con- 
quests and booty, but himself and 100 of his 



PRINCE Edward's HARANauE. 53 

principal knights as prisoners. To so terrible 
a dishonour the hero of Cre^y hotly refused to 
submit. "England/* he cried, "shall never 
pay ransom for me !" And the Cardinal, 
after some further unsuccessful attempts to 
promote a peaceful issue, rode back to Poitiers 
in sorrowful disappointment. 

Then the Black Prince, casting his eyes 
upon the formidable array before him, and 
numbering his own small bands, addressed his 
knights and captains in a speech which history 
professes to have faithfully recorded : 

xi. "Mes amis," he said, " je me rejouis de 
ce que Dieu a permis que nous ne soyons plus 
en danger de combattre la faim ; nousn'avions 
a craindre que cette disgrace, et pour I'eviter 
j'offrois toutes les conditions que delivrient de 
cette apprehension. Serons nous courageuse- 
ment de ce bonheur. Que ce grand nombre 
ne vous 6tonne point, vous reconnoistrez bien 
tantost que ce sont les mesmes gens qui 
s'enfuirent a labataille de Cre^y, et k qui cent 
autres mauvaises recontres ont appris depuis 
k frapper plutost de Teperon que de Tepee. 
C'est leur coutume, et une marque de leur 
laschet^ c'est de venir ainsi dix contre un : 
mais soutenez seulement leur premier effort 



54 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

et vous les mettrez en fiiite. Ces riches armes, 
ces lances dorees, et ces bassinets couronn^s 
de perles et de diamans, sont des depouilles 
que vous devez plus souhaiter que craindre. 
Les richesses de la France sont toutes la, il 
les faut gagner. Pour les forces nous les 
avons d^faites. Nos ennemies n'avoient rien 
de bon pour le combat que les chevaux ; voyez 
que par un mauvais conseil ils se sont mis k 
pied, et ont imprudemment abandonne le seul 
avantage qui le pouvoit sauver la vie. Cour- 
age done, mes amis, apres cette journee nous 
courrons victorieux d'une bout k I'autre de la 
France : et si nous repondons aujourd 'buy a 
r opinion que tout T Europe a deja conceiie de 
nostre valear, nous n'aurons desormais plus 
que faire d' armes, la renomm^e acbevera pour 
nous le reste de cette guerre." 

Which may be Englished thus : — 
" My friends, — I rejoice that through the 
grace of God, we are no longer in peril of 
perishing by famine. We need no longer fear 
that disgrace, and, indeed, in order to avoid 
it, I offered such conditions as might free us 
from the apprehension. Let us valiantly avail 
ourselves of this good fortune. Let not 
yonder innumerable host affright you. Ee- 



PBiNCE Edward's speech. 55 

member that they are the same soldiers who 
fled from the field of Cregy, and whom a 
hundred other mischances have taught to 
strike with the spur rather than the sword. 
It is their usual custom, and a mark of their 
cowardice, thus to confront us with ten to 
one ; but sustain only their first charge, and 
you will put them to flight. Those glittering 
arms, those gilded spears, and those helmets 
crowned with pearls and diamonds, are spoils 
which you should rather desire than tremble 
at. Yonder is the wealth of France ; it must 
be ours ! For their hosts, we have defeated 
them. Our enemies have no resource n the 
coming fight but their horses, and yet ye 
witness that, through evil counsel, their 
cavalry has dismounted, and imprudently 
abandoned the only advantage which would 
have ensured their safety. Courage, then, my 
friends ; after this day we will sweep victori- 
ously from one end of France to the other ; 
and if to-day we justify the opinion which all 
Europe has already conceived of our valour, 
we shall never again be compelled to have re- 
course to arms, our glory alone will effect a 
termination of this war.'' 

xii. Encouraged by their leader's martial 



56 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

enthusiasm, tlie English began to strengthen 
their position by throwing up a few rude 
earth works, and trenching some deep dykes. 
They then prepared to await the issue of the 
morrow's battle in calm contentment. The 
silence of discipline prevailed in their little 
camp, but that of the French was loud with 
exultant cheers and boastful songs. The 
night was passed by the Prince in the due 
ordering of his array, and in prayers for the 
success of his arms in the unequal conflict. 

xiii. At nine o'clock on Monday morning, 
the 19th of September, the clanging trumpets 
annoimced that the battle shock was at hand. 
Edward's troops stood firm in their well- 
chosen position, but the French vanguard, 
confident in its numbers, rushed furiously 
to the charge, streaming in disorder up the 
narrow lane which ascended the wooded 
acclivity. In so close a defile its very num- 
bers did but avail for indiscriminate slaughter. 
They could not deploy, or close up ; manoeu- 
vres were impossible ; to retire or advance 
soon became equally difficult. Meanwhile, 
from the leafy coverts on either hand, flew 
fast and furious the English, shafts, each deal- 
ing death or deadly wounds. So incessant 



PROGRESS OF THE BATTLE. 57 

and so well directed was tins storm of arrows 
that the French men-at-arms could not long 
withstand it. They wavered ; they turned ; 
they fled. Of the two captains who had led 
the ill-advised movement, D'Andreghen was 
taken prisoner, wounded, and Clermont slain, 
xiv. The repulse of this chosen body of 
soldiery spread dismay among the French 
ranks, and the panic was further increased by 
the appearance of 600 bowmen, detached by 
Prince Edward, who turned the enemy's flank, 
and broke like a thunderstorm upon his rear. 
These archers dealt their blows so truly that 
soon the main battle of the French fell into 
terrible disorder, and after some hesitation 
betook themselves to a speedy flight. " When 
the English men-at-arms,'' says Froissart, 
"saw that the Marshal's soldiers were dis- 
comfited, and the Duke's battle began to dis- 
order and open, they hastily mounted their 
horses, which stood by them in readiness. 
Then they assembled together, and cried, ' St. 
George for Guienne !' and the Lord Chandos 
said to the Prince, ' Sir, take your horse and 
ride, for then this day is yours ! God puts 
this battle into your hands ; get us to the 

D 5 



58 EDWAED OF WOODSTOCK. 

French king's arraj, for there lieth all the 
sore of the matter. I judge verilj from his 
valour that he will not fly : I trust we shall 
have him, by the grace of God and St. George, 
so he be well fought withal ; and sir, I heard 
you say that I should this day see you prove 
yourself a good knight.' The Prince rejoined: 
' Let us advance, ye will not behold me draw 
back this day,' and then he exclaimed, ' ad- 
vance my banner in the name of God and St. 
George !' The knight who bore it did as he 
was bidden ; and straight arose a fierce and 
perilous fight, and many a man was over- 
thrown, and he that once fell could not be re- 
lieved again without great succour and aid. 
As the Prince rode in among his enemies, he 
saw, lying dead in a little thicket on his right 
hand, the Lord Eobert of Duras, with his ban- 
ner by him. And he said to two of his squires 
and three bowmen, ' Sirs, take the body of 
this knight upon a shield, and bear him to 
Poitiers, and present him from me to the 
Cardinal of Perigord, and say that by this 
token I salute him.' And it was done." 

XV. Now, indeed, it was that the Prince es- 
pecially distinguished himself. As May, the 
old poet, sings in rough but vigorous verse — 



THE ENGLISH HERO. 59 



' Here in the thickest throng of enemies, 
Like Thracian Mars himself. Black Edward plies 
Death's fatal task — her noble Warwick gives 
A furious onset ; there brave Suffolk strives 
T'outgo the foremost — emulation's fire 
Is kindled now, and blazes high — desire 
Of honour drowns all other passions there ; 
Not in the chief alone ; each soldier 
In that small army feels bright honour's flame, 
And labours to maintain his proper fame. 
Ne'er was a battle through all parts so fought, 
Nor such high wonders by a handful wrought, 
Bright victory that soar'd above, beheld 
How every English hand throughout the field 
Was stain'd with blood, amaz'd to see the day. 
And that so few should carry her away." 



xvi. Driving resistlessly through the dis- 
ordered battle, Prince Edward and his cap- 
tains fell with a terrible shock upon the 
French rear, which was commanded bj King 
John in person. Both steadily and gallantly 
the royal soldier withstood the furious onset, 
dealing many a deadly blow with his heavy 
battle-axe, and standing firm while his chi- 
valry was smitten down by his side, — and 
steadily and boldly fought his youngest son, 
a lad of sixteen, — an impetuous frank-hearted 
youth, afterwards to figure notably in French 
annals as Philip le Hardi, Duke of Burgundy. 
Twice was the King smitten in the face, and, 
at length, beaten to the groimd, where, en- 



60 EDWAED OF WOODSTOCK. 

circled by Englislimen and Gascons, he stood 
in utmost peril of losing his life, until a 
knight who recognised his person, strove 
through the throng, and, kneeling, besought 
him to surrender.* '' To whom shall I yield 
myself?" inquired the King; ''where is my 
cousin, the Prince of Wales?" '' He is not 
here," replied the knight, ''but I will lead 
you to him safely." " And who are you. Sir 
Knight?" "lam Denis de Morbecque, a 
knight of Artois, who now serves the King of 
England, having forfeited all the lands I held 
in France." Thereupon King John gave him 
his right-hand gauntlet, saying, " I yield me 
to you," and the Earl of Warwick and the 
Lord Cobham coming up, he was rescued 
from the crowd which still threatened his life, 
and conducted to the tent of the Prince of 
Wales. 

xvii. He was received with a chivalrous 
courtesy and a delicate generosity which have 
reflected more lustre on his conqueror's fame 
than all the successes of his career. The 
Prince went forth to meet him, with an air 
of grave respect, and waited upon him with 
all the deference of a vassal towards his lord. 

* Froissart. 



A KEMARKABLE SCENE. 61 



" In his pavilion, 
Brave Edward feasts his royal prisoner ; 
At which, as noble did the Prince appear 
As erst in battle ; and by sweetness won 
As great a conquest as his sword had done. 



The remarkable scene which followed has 
been described by Froissart witb picturesque 
felicity : — '^ The day of the battle, at night, 
the Prince gave a supper in his lodgings to 
the King, and to most of the great lords that 
were prisoners. The Prince caused the King 
and his son to sit at one table, and other 
lords, knights, and squires, at the others ; and 
the Prince always served the King very 
humbly, and would not sit at the king's table 
although he requested him — he said he was 
not qualified to sit at the table with so great 
a Prince as the King was. Then he said to 
the King, ' Sir, for God's sake make no bad 
cheer, though your will was not accomplished 
this day. For, Sir, the King, my father, will 
surely bestow on you as much honour and 
friendship as he can, and will agree with you 
so reasonably that you shall ever after be 
friends *, and, Sir, I think you ought to rejoice, 
though the battle be not as you will, for you 
have this day gained the high renown of 



62 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

prowess, and have surpassed all others on 
your side in valour. Sir, I say not this to 
mock you; for all our party, who saw every 
man's deeds, plainly agree in this, and give 
you the palm and chaplet/ Therewith the 
Frenchmen whispered among themselves that 
the Prince had spoken nobly, and that most 
probably he would prove a great hero, if God 
preserved his life to persevere in such good 
fortune." 

xviii. It would seem as if, to use the lan- 
guage of a '' Person of Quality," the Black 
Prince having conquered the French king's 
person, '' by force of battle," now strove " to 
overcome his mind, by his humble deport- 
ment," expressing himself " in a language so 
ponderous, humble, grave, and natural, and 
yet so stately, as none but the best soul, 
adorned with the best education, was able to 
have performed."* But an incident like this 
shows, after all, but the best side of chivalry. 
It inculcated generosity of thought and feel- 
ing between knight and knight. It enjoined 
the most romantic tenderness of dealing 
between princes and nobles. It regulated the 
jousts of lovely ladies and valiant warriors, 

* The French King conquered, by a person of quality. 



THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY. 63 

and bestowed its "palm and garland '' upon 
the glittering helm and gilded lance. But it 
cherished no kindliness of feeling, no common 
sympathy, between classes; smoothed away 
none of the ruggednesses which separate the 
rich from the poor ; preached no noble lesson 
of high and holy duty ; nor interpreted the 
great Christian creed of '' peace and goodwill 
upon Earth" as embracing all " orders and 
conditions " of men. 

xix. The day after the victory of Poitiers, 
Prince Edward, with his long train of priso- 
ners and immense store of booty, resumed his 
march, and unopposed by the broken and 
disorderly masses of the demoralised French 
army, which had lost not only its leaders but 
its honour, passed through Poitou and Saintes 
to his own city of Bordeaux, where he con- 
cluded a truce for two years with the 
Dauphin Charles, now appointed Lieutenant 
of France. Then, with his royal and illus- 
trious prisoners, he set out for England and 
disembarked at Sandwich, after a wearisome 
voyage of eleven days and nights, on the 
16th of April, 1357. In that once important 
town the prince and his retinue rested two 
days, and on the 19th departed in great pomp 



64 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

and parade for Canterbury, where they were 
duly received by its arcbbishop, Simon of 
Islip. Both the prince and King John 
visited the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket^ 
and presented very rich and sumptuous ofler- 
ings. On the following day the glittering 
procession rode onward to Eochester, where 
again the two princes reposed and refreshed 
themselves. On the third day they reached 
Dartford, and on the fourth London, where 
such a reception was accorded to the hero of 
Poitiers as the citizens had never before 
given to their best loved kings. " There was 
so much press of people," says Capgrave, 
'^ that when he was at the brigge [London 
Bridge — in those days the Thames was the 
scene of every stately pageant] at nyne 
before noon, it was on after noon or he myte 
come to Westminster." Along the leafy- 
Strand, and by the fair gardens of the river 
bank, streamed the bright procession ; King 
John mounted . on his own white charger, 
which had been captured with him at Poitiers, 
and the Black Prince, in seeming lowliness, 
riding on a small black pony by his side. A 
long and brilliant train of nobles and knights, 
of stalwart men-at-arms, and dainty squires, 



REJOICINGS IN ENGLAND. 65 

of heralds in embroidered tabards, of silken 
banners, gay with many a quaint device, 
went up through the shouting throng of 
the London citizens, and the smiles of their 
buxom wives, and fair, fresh daughters, while 
music filled the air with martial and triumph- 
ant strains. 

XX. For many weeks it seemed as if the 
city had surrendered itself to a very frenzy 
of joy. The Black Prince was the favourite 
English hero, and had defeated the favourite 
English enemy. Banquets and tourneys, 
therefore, celebrated every hour, and espe- 
cially one grand jousting, which took place 
towards the end of May, and lasted three 
days. Proclamation was made that the 
Mayor, Sheriffs, and Aldermen of London 
were ready to hold the field against all 
comers. The Kings of France and Scotland, 
both prisoners to the arms of England, were 
present on this memorable occasion, and great 
was the pride of the citizens when they dis- 
covered that it was King Edward himself 
who represented the chief magistrate of their 
city, the Princes Edward and Lionel who 
personated the two sheriffs, and other princes 



.66 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK, 

and nobles, who figured in the knightly mas- 
querade as minor civic dignitaries. 

xxi. To the joust and the mimic warfare of 
the tourney, in which the Black Prince was 
not less successful than in the battlefield, 
once more succeeded the dread reality of 
blood and strife. King Edward had not yet 
abated his pretensions to the crown of 
France, and towards the close of the year 
1359, determined upon re-asserting them by 
force of arms. An army of, it is said, 100,000 
men — but to us the number seems greatly 
exaggerated, and utterly disproportionate to 
the military force which England usually 
sent into the field — embarked at Sandwich, 
in 1,123 ships, on the 28th of October, and 
duly landed at Calais. From thence it set 
out on its mission of desolation on the 4th of 
November, the van under the command of 
the Black Prince. It would not, however, 
interest the general reader, to detail the suc- 
cessive skirmishes and numerous forays which 
marked the progress of the great army to the 
gates of Paris (March 31, 1360), or the 
disasters which overtook it during its retreat 
upon Chartres. No French army, indeed, 



A TERRIBLE STORM. 67 

dared confront the skill and valour of the 
English chiefs in the open field; but the 
peasantry harassed the retreating force on its 
flanks and in the rear, and desolated the 
country before its advance, so as to menace 
it with all the horrors of famine. When 
within six miles of Chartres, Edward's army 
was overtaken by a terrible storm of thunder 
and lightning, which killed 1,000 knights 
and 6,000 horses. So severe a loss awakened 
the long-slumbering conscience of the king, 
and he vowed on the scene of this deplorable 
disaster to conclude peace with the French 
(April 13, 1360). The French themselves 
were equally anxious to terminate hostilities, 
and the famous Treaty of Bretigni was signed 
upon the 8th of May. Of little profit to the 
English was this memorable campaign, but 
during its progress the Black Prince displayed 
an extent of military genius, and a fertility 
of resources which largely increased his 
fame. 



68 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK, 



IV. 



THE LOVE-MATCH : AND THE " FAIR MAID OF 
KENT.'' 



i. Prince Edward's return to England was 
quickly followed by his marriage with the 
love of liis early manhood, Joanna, the " Fair 
Maid of Kent," whom the death of Sir 
Thomas Holland had left a widow. 

A romantic story is told by some of the old 
chroniclers in reference to this historical 
"love-match." On Sir Thomas Holland's 
decease, the Prince, it is said, urged the fair 
widow to re-marry, and, probably by way 
of testing her actual feelings, recommended 
to her notice one of his favourite knights. 
But the Beauty of Kent now aimed at a 
higher prize, and to the Prince's insidious 
overtures replied, — " That when she was a 
ward, others had disposed of her hand, but 
that now, having arrived at years of discre- 
tion, she would not mate herself below her 
rank. She remembered that she was of the 
royal blood of England, [as daughter of 
Edmund of Woodstock, half-brother of 




SEru77\7\ r/i b\ ■ ^I'hulfn . 



'l^://^/u/' lA'^^'t:? rr/n/^h'y^: /66(J 



A LOVE MATCH. 69 

Edward II.] and, therefore, she was resolved 
never again to marrj other than a Prince for 
rank and virtue equal to himself.'* The 
Prince, as quaint Arthur Collins tells us, was 
" a passionate admirer of every gallant spirit ; 
and knowing that what she said was true, he 
presently returned her compliment in an en- 
dearing manner, and, from that instant, be- 
came a suitor for himself. Having imparted 
his affections to his royal father, he was 
pleased with his thought of marriage, and 
they being within the degrees of consangui- 
nity, he procured a dispensation from the 
Pope, which bears date at Avignon, the 7th 
of the Ides of September, 1361.'* 

ii. The marriage was celebrated with 
great pomp in St. George's Chapel, Windsor, 
on the 10th of October, 1361. Joan was 
now thirty-five years oldi — four years her 
husband's senior; but her loveliness was of 
that order which displays its fullest splendour 
in the maturity of its summer, rather than 
in the young promise of its spring. In com- 
memoration of the romantic love which was 
thus so felicitously consummated, the Prince 
founded a rich and sumptuous chantry in the 



70 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

crypt of the Cathedral of Canterbury, and 
two priests were appointed to offer up daily 
prayers for his soul's welfare. " It is now/' 
says Dr. Stanley, " by a strange turn of 
fortune, the entrance to the chapel of the 
French congregation — the descendants of the 
very nation whom he conquered at Poitiers; 
but you can still trace the situation of the two 
altars where his priests stood, and on the 
groined vaultings you can see his arms, and 
the arms of his father, and, in connection 
with the joyful event for whicTi he founded 
the chapel, what seems to be the face of his 
beautiful wife, commonly known as the ' Fair 
Maid of Kent.' " 

iii. The king, after this happy marriage,'"' 
created his illustrious son Prince of Aquitaine, 
assigning to him the full government of that 
important province, and all claim and right to 
the enjoyment of its revenues. For some 
months longer, however, he continued to re- 
side in England, maintaining a most luxuri- 
ous state at Berkhampstead Castle, and 

* From tlie romance which attended it this marriage was regarded 
with peculiar interest by the English people. No other alliance 
formed by a Prince of Wales has been very favourably received by 
the nation until the marriage of the eldest son of Queen Victoria 
with the Princess Alexandra. 



VISITS AQUITAINE. 71 

launched into a profuseness which, at last, 
provoked the remonstrances of the Parliament. 

" Why," they complained to the King, 
"does the Prince expend our uionejs, and 
the wealth of the royal treasury, when he has 
a noble principality and ample revenues to 
maintain his honour in Aquitaine ?'' The 
nobles of Aquitaine, meanwhile were desirous, 
that the Prince and his brilliant court should 
enliven their own capital. Accordingly he 
repaired, at first, to Angouleme, where his 
beautiful wife gave birth to Edward, their 
first child, February, 1365 ; and afterwards 
to Bordeaux, where he took up his abode, 
filling that sunny city of the vines with the 
pomp and splendour in which, like a true 
Plantagenet, he so keenly delighted. There, 
on the 6th of January, 1366, was born his 
second son, so fatally famous in our English 
Chronicles as Eichard the Second. 

iv. It is admitted that the Prince conducted 
the government of his Principality with ad- 
mirable skill and eminent ability, notwith- 
standing the gay doings, the jousts and revels 
in which he indulged his natural love of 
chivalric state and grandeur. But his third de- 
cade was approaching, and with it gathered 



72 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

nearer and nearer tbe clang of trumpets and 
the clash of clarions. It has been remarked 
that the three great events of our hero's career 
were each separated hy an interval of ten 
years : at every decade some memorable 
achievement set up a landmark for the wonder 
of posterity. In 1346 he gained Cre^y; in 
1356, Poitiers ; and now, in 1366, his military 
genius was to shine conspicuous on the fields 
of Spain. 



A SPANISH ALLY. 

i. Don Pedro, rightly surnamed " the Cruel," 
from the ferocity of his character, had been 
dispossessed of the throne of Castile by his 
illegitimate brother, Henry, of Transtamare. 
In this revolution the influence of France had 
been a powerful agent, to revenge upon Pedro 
his barbarous treatment of the fair and un- 
happy Blanche, his wife, a French princess. 
Pedro immediately hastened to Bordeaux, and 
besought the Black Prince, as the great 
conqueror of France, to sustain his rights, and 
assist him in regaining the crown which was 



DON PEDRO OF SPAIN. 73 

his by lawful inlieritance. The infamous re- 
pute of the Spanish sovereign, however, was 
SO well and widely known, that when the 
Princess Joan became aware of his errand in 
Bordeaux, she entreated her husband not to 
move to his assistance. The Black Prince 
affected to misapprehend the reasons of her 
interference. '' I see,'^ he said, " that my 
wife wants me always at her side. But a 
knight who desires to inmortalize his name, 
must seek occasions to distinguish himself in 
war, and by his victories secure the admira- 
tion of posterity. By St. George," he said, 
" I will restore Spain to its lawful inheritor !'' 
ii. The motives which influenced him to 
adopt Don Pedro's cause, were motives all- 
powerful with a mind like his. First, it im- 
plied hostility to the French, whom he re- 
garded as the natural enemies of his country. 
Secondly, his eminently conservative sympa- 
thies inclined him to uphold the cause of legiti- 
macy, of which he appears to have considered 
himself the champion. Further in return for 
Edward's services, he promised the cession of 
Biscay to England ; the election of his second 
son to the throne of Galicia; and ample 

VOL. I. E 



74 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

pay and booty to his knights and men-at- 
arms, while in earnest of his generous inten- 
tions, he lavishly decorated the person of the 
Princess Joan with rare and costly jewels. 

iii. The Black Prince having formally 
pledged himself to the advocacy of Don 
Pedro's cause, addressed himself to the task he 
had undertaken with characteristic ardour. 
He lent large sums of money to his ally, re- 
ceiving his bonds for their repayment — bonds 
which Pedro secretly intended never to dis- 
charge, and sold all his plate and jewels that 
his officers might have the means of equipping 
themselves for the expedition. In January, 
1367, having recalled to his banners the 
famous " Free Companions," — gallant, but 
predatory English lances, skilfully led by the 
redoubtable Sir John Hawkwood, Sir Eobert 
Calverley, and Sir Richard Knowles, — he set 
out upon his march into Spain ; and though 
it was a time of storm and snow, broke through 
the historic pass of Roncesvalles, 

" Where Charlemain and all his peerage fell," 

and which, at a later day, and in an opposite 
direction, was threaded by Wellington's vic- 
torious army, — and fell from the Pyrenean 



BATTLE OF NAJERA. 75 

heights, like an avalanche, upon the fertile 
fields of Spain, 

iv. Leaving on his right the village of 
Vittoria, since associated with one of the most 
glorious memories of the British army, Prince 
Edward crossed the Ebro, and debouched into 
the open country between Navar^te and Na- 
jera (April 3, 1367). Here, Don Henry, with 
Du Guesclin, the great French hero, and his 
'• Free Companions," were encamped ; their 
total strength, according to some authorities, 
being 60,000 infantry, 30,000 cavalry, 10,000 
archers, and 4,000 French men-at-arms, who 
had followed Guesclin into Spain, that they 
might avenge the unhappy fate of Blanche of 
Bourbon. The English army, we are told, did 
not number more than 30,000 of all arms. 
But the disparity was more in numbers than in 
actual strength ; for "the Spanish foot soldiers, 
though with their slings they might annoy the 
cavalry at a distance, were of little use in 
close combat; while the men-at-arms under 
the Prince were veterans, who had long been 
inured to victory," 

V. Before the battle began — the third in 
which the Black Prince figured as the princi- 

E^ 2 



76 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

pal hero — ^he offered up a prayer, which the 
chronicler Froissart has recorded : '^ God of 
truth, the father of Jesus Christ, who hast 
made and fashioned me, condescend, through 
thy Divine Grace, that the success of the 
battle of this day may be for me and my krmy ; 
for Thou knowest, that in truth I have been 
solely emboldened to undertake it in the sup- 
port of justice and reason, to reinstate this 
king upon his throne, who has been disin- 
herited and driven from it, as well as from 
his country." 

vi. Edward's brother, the young John of 
Gaunt — afterwards, " time-honoured Lancas- 
ter'' — ^led the first attack, and showed him- 
self a worthy scion of the Plantagenet race. 
The English bowmen, as was their wont, 
plied their arrows among their foes with a 
rapidity as wonderful as it was destructive, 
and calmly confronting the stones hurled by 
the Castilian slingers, pressed steadily and 
irresistibly forward. The Black Prince never, 
on any occasion, displayed a more brilliant 
valour ; wherever the fight was hottest, and 
the carnage thickest, his sword was ready to 
deal the most trenchant blows. Pedro fought 
with true Spanish courage ; and the small 



A poet's picture, 77 

English army — despite the resolute heroism 
of Du Guesclin, who, on this day, fully sus- 
tained his glorious reputation — gradually 
swept before them the Spanish host, and 
planted on the field of Najera the triumphant 
banner of the Eed Cross. 

vii. The battle-scene has been curiously- 
depicted by a contemporary poet, Walter of 
Peterborough : — 

" Dux celer insequitur; jam csedes plebis oritur, 

Creber homo moritur, creber homo capitur. 
Vix locus in rure carent cubito, pede, cruore, 

De Franco fure, Teutone vel Ligure. 
Loricis laceris, ruptis, galeis ve galeris, 

Mars, omnis generis, arma per arva seris. 
Per sata, per prata discurrunt agmine lata ; 

Est fuga temptata palma meisque data". 
Sunt Hispanorum sex millia caesa virorum, 

Prseter mersorum quem tulit unda chorum. 
Propter tot spolia tibi propria sonet melodia, 

Nam sunt indubia millia capta tria." 

viii. After the battle, in which Don Henry 
lost 6000 slain and 3000 prisoners, the san- 
guinary Pedro was fain to have murdered his 
captives in cold blood, but was restrained by 
the steadfast opposition of the Black Prince. 
The latter soon discovered that he had re- 
placed the crown on a villain's brow ; had 
restored a kingdom to one who mocked at 
honour, and scrupled not to forswear the most 



78 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

sacred vows. As soon as Pedro felt himself 
secure on Hs throne lie treated with insolent 
contempt the remonstrances of his great ally, 
and coldly refased to fulfil the solemn pledges 
he had given ; so that Edward found himself 
burdened with the weight of the guarantees 
he had offered his own captains, and tram- 
melled by a multitude of pecuniary engage- 
ments. His men were unpaid, and ill pro- 
visioned. In stem resentment he broke off 
the disastrous alliance. Sore at heart, and 
enfeebled in frame, — and it was believed by 
many that the treacherous Pedro had secretly 
attempted to poison him, — ^he returned, about 
the middle of July, to his city of Bordeaux. 
Here his illness grew apace, and the dysen- 
tery which was one of the evil fruits of his 
Spanish expedition made rapid inroads upon 
his constitution. 

ix. Among the prisoners of Najera whom 
Edward conveyed to Gascony, the most illus- 
trious, undoubtedly, was Du Guesclin, the 
great hero of France, and her ablest captain. 
He figures in a remarkable scene with the 
Elack Prince, which lives for all time on the 
glowing canvas of Maitre Jehan Froissart, 
and which we transfer to our pages as an 



A CHIVALRIC EPISODE. 79 

illustration of the manners and customs of 
chivalry, and the peculiar character of our 
English hero. It really occurred in England 
in 1371, but we introduce it here from its 
connection with the battle of Najera. 

" One day," he says, " the Prince of Wales 
had risen from dinner, and retired into a pri- 
vate chamber with his nobles, who had been 
served with wines and spices. And they began 
to tell of many a bold feat of arms, of love- 
passages, of battles, and of prisons, and how 
St. Louis, to save his life, was made prisoner 
in Tunis, whence he was ransomed for pure 
gold, paid down by weight. And the Prince, 
speaking heedlessly, said, ' When a good 
knight, approved of in arms, is made prisoner 
in a fair passage of battle, and has yielded 
himself and sworn to remain a prisoner, he 
should on no account depart without his cap- 
tor's leave. Nor should his captor demand 
of him a ransom so large that he be unable 
to free himself again.' When the Sieur de 
Lebret heard these words, he bethought him- 
self, and said, ' Be not wroth with me, noble 
Sire, if I dare to repeat what I have heard 
said of you in your absence.' 'By my faith, 
rejoined the Prince, 'right little should I love 



80 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

any follower of mine, sitting at my table, who 
heard a word said to my dishonour, and failed 
to apprise me of it.' ' Sire,' said de Lebret, 
'men say that you hold in prison a knight 
whose name I well know, because you fear to 
deliver him.' ' It is true,' said Oliver de 
Clisson, ' I have heard speak of it.' Then 
the Prince proudly swore, ' I know not a 
knight in the world, who, were he my pri- 
soner, I would not admit to a fair ransom, 
according to his ability.' And Lebret rej oined, 
' How, Sire, do you forget Bertrand du Gues- 
clin ? that he cannot get away ?' And when 
the Prince heard this, his colour changed ; 
and he was so tempted by pride, indignation, 
and scorn that he commanded Bertrand to be 
brought before him, with whom he desired to 
make terms, in spite of all who had spoken 
of the matter, and would fain not let him be 
ransomed unless they themselves should name 
the amount. 

" Then certain knights went out and found 
Bertrand, who was brought to the chamber 
where sat the Prince of Wales, and with him 
John Chandos, a true and valiant knight. 
And had they chosen to believe him they 
would long ago have disposed of the war, for 



A CHIVALRIC EPISODE. 81 

he gave much excellent advice. And also 
were present Oliver de Clisson and other 
knights, and before all these appeared Ber- 
trand, wearing a grey coat. And when the 
Prince saw him he could not refrain from 
laughing, and he said, ' Well, Bertrand, how 
fare you ?' And Bertrand approaching him, 
bowed a little, and said, ' I may fare better, 
sire, when it pleaseth you so, for many a day 
have I heard the rats and mice, but it is long 
since I listened to the song of the birds. That 
only shall I hear when it is your pleasure.' 
' Bertrand,' said the Prince, ' that shall be 
when it is your will. It shall depend upon 
yourself, so that you will swear, and make true 
oath, never to bear arms against me nor these 
others, nor to assist Henry of Spain. So soon 
as you take this oath we will set you free and 
pay what you owe, and moreover give you ten 
thousand florins towards your re-equipment ; 
but otherwise you shall not go.' ' Then, sire,' 
exclaimed Bertrand, ' my deliverance will not 
come to pass ; for ere I take such an oath may I 
lie by the leg in prison as long as I live. Nay, 
with God's will, I will never be a mock to my 
friends. For by Him who created the world, 

E 5 



82 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

I will serve with my whole heart those whom 
I have always served, and whose I have been 
from my first deed of arms. These are the 
good King of France, the noble Dukes of 
Anjou, of Berri, of Burgundy, and of Bour- 
bon, of whose party I have been, as was my 
duty. But may it please you, sire, to set me 
free. You have too long detained me in 
prison, wrongfully and without cause ; and I 
will tell you that I had designed to go from 
France, I and my people, against the Sara- 
cens. And even so I had promised Hugh de 
Calverley, intending to work out my salva- 
tion.' 

" ' Why then went you not straight without 
delaying 7 inquired the Prince. 

" ' I will tell you,' replied Du Guesclin, in 
a loud voice. ' We found Pedro — the curse 
of God confound him ! — who had long since 
most foully murdered his noble Queen, born 
of the noble line of Bourbon, and of the blood 
of my lord, St. Louis, — a lady who was your 
cousin, by the best blood in your body. Im- 
mediately I stopped that I might avenge her 
and succour Don Enrique, — for well I know, 
and assuredly believe, that he i$ the lawful 
king and true heir of Spain, — and to de- 



A GHIVALRIC EPISODE. 83 

stroy Jews and Saracens, of whom in those 
regions there are too many. Now you, 
through great pride, set out for Spain, to 
the best of your ability, through lust of 
gold and silver, and that you might have the 
crown after the death of Pedro, who reigns 
wrongfully. By which expedition you have, 
in the first place, injured your own blood, and 
done harm to me and my people ; whence it 
has happened that, after you have so ruined 
your friends, and you and yours have suffered 
from famine, and much pain, and severe toil, 
this Pedro has cheated you by fraud and 
trickery, and has kept neither faith nor cove- 
nant with you. For which, indeed, I, by my 
faith, do heartily thank him.' 

" When Bertrand had thus spoken, the 
Prince arose, and was constrained that on his 
soul Bertrand was right, and his barons also 
declared that he had said the truth. And all 
around there was much joy and great exulta- 
tion, and one said to another, ' Lo you now, 
yonder is a brave Breton.' But the Prince 
called him, and said, ' Still you shall not es- 
cape me unless you pay a good ransom, and 
it vexes me that men hold you in such favour. 
But it is declared that I keep you a prisoner 



84 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

because I fear you. Therefore, that every 
one may cease to nourish such a suspicion, 
and know that I neither dread nor regard 
you, I will free you upon payment of a fitting 
ransom.' 

'^ ' Sire,' replied Bertrand, ' I am a poor 
knight of small fame, and not so well born as 
that I should command abundant aid. More- 
over, my lands are mortgaged for purchase of 
war-horses, and also in this very town I owe 
ten thousand florins. Be moderate, therefore, 
and release me.' 

" ' Where will you go, fair sir ?' inquired 
the Prince. 

" ' Sir, I will go where I may repair my 
loss, and more I cannot say.' 

'* ' Think, then,' said the Prince, ' what 
ransom you will give me. Whatever you 
name shall be sufficient for me.' 

" ' Sir,' replied Bertrand, ' I trust you will 
not deign to draw back from your saying. 
And since you are content to refer it to my 
pleasure, it is not meet that I should place too 
low a value on myself. So I will give and 
engage for my liberty one hundred thousand 
double golden florins.' 

" And when the Prince heard him his 



A CHIVALRIC EPISODE. 86 

colour changed, and he gazed round upon his 
knights, saying : ' Does he mean to mock me 
that he offers such a sum ? For a quarter of 
it I would gladly free him. Bertrand,^ he 
said, ' neither can you pay, nor do I desire, 
such a sum ; so consider again.* 

'' ' Sire,' said Bertrand, ' since you will not 
so much, I value myself at sixty thousand 
florins. You shall not take less, if that you 
will release me.' 

" ' Well,' said the Prince, ' to this I will 
agree.' 

" Then Bertrand spoke out boldly, and 
said : ' Don Henry, sir, may well and truly 
boast that he will die King of Spain, be the 
cost what it may, and he will lend one half 
my ransom, and the King of France the other ; 
but if I can neither send nor go to these two, 
I would engage all the spinstresses in France 
to spin it, rather than that I should longer re- 
main in your hands.' 

"And the Prince, when he heard him 
speak, said : ' What manner of man is this ? 
Nothing appears to surprise him, either in 
thought or action, no more than if he pos- 
sessed all the gold in the world. He has 
priced himself at sixty thousand double florins, 



86 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

and I would willingly have released him for 
ten thousand.' And all the barons were also 
much amazed. 

" ' Am I then at liberty ?' asked Du Gues- 
clin. And Chandos asked him whence should 
come the money ? 

" ' Sir,' he replied, ' I shall find good 
friends, I am certain.' 

'"By my faith,' said Chandos, ' I am 
much rejoiced thereat, and if you have need 
of help, thus much I say, I will lend you ten 
thousand florins.' 

" ' Sir,' rejoined Bertrand, ' I thank you. But 
ere I seek ought of you I will try my own 
countrymen.' " 

VI. 
THE CLOSE OF A GREAT CAREER. 

1. From henceforth the fortunes of the 
Black Prince fell into the " sere and yellow 
leaf." 

The expenditure he had lavished on his 
fatal expedition into Spain, and the non-ful- 
filment of the engagements into which Pedro 
the Cruel had so solemnly entered, added to 
the profase outlay caused by his love of pomp 



CLOUD AND SHADOW. 87 

and show, had completely exhausted his 
treasury. Even heroes cannot reign without 
money, and, therefore, the Black Prince was 
forced to levy a new tax upon his subjects in 
Aquitaine. This fouage^ or hearth-money, 
was felt as such an oppression by the Gascons, 
already angered by the rigid and imperious 
administration of the Prince, that they broke 
out into open revolt, and appealed for help 
to the King of France. Charles, a bold and 
sagacious sovereign, was by no means slow 
to avail himself of this felicitous incident, and 
professing to regard the Black Prince as his 
vassal, cited him to appear at Paris, to render 
due explanations of his conduct to his liege 
lord. At this most daring insult the blood of 
the Plantagenet burned with the ancient fire. 
"Aye, messieurs," he cried, "we will gladly 
go to Paris to our uncle, since he hath so 
handsomely invited us; but I protest that 
it shall be with our helmet on our head, 
and sixty thousand men in our company." 

ii. He made, immediately, vast prepara- 
tions for a protracted war, but their wonted 
success did not attend the banners of Eng- 
land. Chandos, true knight and gallant 
captain, was slain in a desultory engagement 



88 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

in Poitou, bequeathing his estate, four hun- 
dred thousand francs in value, to his well 
loved and princely master. The hero himself 
was failing fast, and no longer able to throw 
his military genius into the scale against the 
daring and patriotism of the French leaders. 
*' His great soul,^' says Barnes, quaintly, 
"began to bend beneath his own weight, 
having a mortal war within him, a fatal 
distemper, which some say was brought upon 
him by charms and incantations ; others, that 
he contracted it first in Spain, either by 
infection of that air, or from some lingering 
poison. But, however, he was by this time 
so reduced, that it was painful to him to ride 
on horseback, which much dismayed his 
men, and inspired his enemies with greater 
courage." 

iii. He was roused, nevertheless, to fierce 
aotion by the cowardly surrender of Limo'ges 
to the French, and he swore by his father^ s 
soul — his most solemn oath — that he would 
spare neither man nor woman who had been 
concerned in the foul treachery. He set out 
against it with 12,000 spears and esquires; 
1000 archers mounted ; and 1000 archers on 
foot. The fury of his assault was not to be 



THE SLAUGHTER OF LIMOGES. 89 

withstood. The town was his, and ha gave it 
up to fire and sword. As he was unable to 
ride he was borne in a litter through the deso- 
lated and blood-reeking streets, but he gave no 
sign to stay the slaughter of man, woman, or 
child until his chivalric love of courage was 
excited by the spectacle of three gallant 
knights stoatly defending themselves against 
overpowering odds. Then he bade the 
trumpets sound, and the massacre cease. But 
not before a foul and sinful butchery had been 
done. '' There was not a man that day in 
Limoges," says Froissart, " with a heart so 
hardened, or so little sense of religion, as not 
to bewail the unfortunate scene before his 
eyes. Upwards of 3000 men, women, and 
children were slain. God have mercy on 
their souls, for they were truly martyrs !" 

iv. The herald Chandos, the metrical 
chronicler of the life and actions of the Black 
Prince, refers to the sack of Limoges, how- 
ever, with little compunction. He says : 

*' All the townsmen were taken or slain 

By the noble Prince of price, 

Whereat great joy had all around 

Those who were his friends ; * 

And his enemies were 

Sorely grieved, and repented 

That they had begun the war against him." 



90 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

His cJontemporaries, indeed, might regard it 
with indifference as a strategic movement, 
or an act of deserved retribution, but happily 
the purer conscience of a later age does not fail 
to brand it with solemn censure. It has left, 
as Lingard says, a foul blot on his memory. 
And among a thousand similar instances, it 
helps to prove that '' the institution of chi- 
valry had less influence in civilising the human 
race than is sometimes ascribed to it. It gave, 
indeed, to courage, some external embellish- 
ments ; it regulated the laws of courtesy ; it 
inculcated principles, often erroneous princi- 
ples, of honour ; but the sterner and more vin- 
dictive passions were effectually beyond its 
control ; and the most accomplished knights 
of the age occasionally betrayed a ferocity of 
disposition which would not have disgraced 
their barbarian ancestors of the 6th century.'' 

V. From Limoges, from its ruins and many 
graves, Edward repaired to Cognac, where he 
was joined by the beautiful, though now most 
matronly Princess Joan. Here he had the 
sore grief to lose his eldest son, Edward, of 
Angoul^me, a boy of much promise, only seven 
years old (a.d. 1371). The blow fell very 
heavily on the hero's weakened frame, and 



AKRIVAL IN ENGLAND. 91 

feeling utterly unable to bear any longer the 
intolerable burthen of government, he gave up 
his Principality to his brother, John of 
Gaunt, and in January, 1371, set out from 
Bordeaux for England. He duly arrived at 
Plymouth, and from thence was borne in a 
litter, by slow stages, to the royal castle of 
Windsor, where Edward III., who was him- 
self grieving over the death of his beloved 
consort, Philippa,** received him with a some- 
what sorrowful welcome. 

vi. The last few years of the heroes life were 
passed, partly at his palace, near London 
Bridge, partly at his country retreat, the 
castle at Berkhampstead, and partly at the 
palace of Westminster. They were sad dark 
years for him and for England. The mighty 
mind of his great father was sinking into do- 
tage, and the nation was much troubled by the 
growing ambition of John of Gaunt. Edward 
himself trembled for the rights of his infant 
son, Eichard of Bordeaux ; and to secure to 
him by every available means the succession 
to the throne, he prevailed upon the Parlia- 
ment to recognise him as the rightful heir. 

vii. In France, the conquests won by the 

* Queen Philippa died on the 14th August, 1369. 



92 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

sword were being lost by the sword, and the 
Black Prince saw, with grieving heart, the 
spoils of his many triumphs loosing from 
England's grasp. At home the nation com- 
plained aloud of the extortions from which it 
suffered, and hailed, with a passionate burst 
of affection, the appearance of their favourite 
hero at the head of the popular party, which, 
in opposition to the Court, and the minions of 
the Duke of Lancaster, demanded reforms in 
the administration, and the removal of 
monopolies and abuses. But the efforts of the 
Prince were necessarily few and feeble. His 
end was drawing near, and the shadow of 
death gathered deeper and darker over him. 
A visible summons appeared in the skies, the 
year previous to his decease, and all men saw 
it: the lurid aspect of a bearded comet of 
wonderful and portentous dimensions ! And, 
a few months later, " there was celebrated a 
famous opposition of Saturn and Jupiter, in 
Aquarius and Leo, the abject parts and places 
of his geniture." It was evident, then, that 
the supreme hour was close at hand. 

viii. Far more evident in the pale cheek, 
the care-worn brow, the shrunken limbs of 
that great warrior whose port had been so 



HIS DEATH. 93 

proud at Cregj, Poitiers, and Najera ! That 
he might the more easily attend the delibera- 
tions of Parliament, he caused himself to be 
removed to the palace at Westminster, on the 
28th of April, 1376. On the 7th of June it 
became urgent that he should make his will. 
On the 8th, Trinity Sunday, the day sacred to 
the Triune Godhead, which had ever been the 
peculiar object of his reverent worship, and in 
the 46th year of his eventful life, he died. 

VII. 
LAST WORDS. 

i. A contemporary chronicler has preserved 
many interesting particulars of his latest 
hours. When his vassals and servants entered 
the death-chamber, he calmly addressed 
them — 

" * Sirs,' said he, ' pardon me, 
For, by the faith I owe you. 
You have served me loyally, 
Though I cannot of my means 
Kender to each his guerdon ; 
But God, by His most holy name, 
And saints, will render it to you.' 

" Then each wept heartily, 
And mourned right tenderly. 
All who were there present. 
Earl, baron, and bachelor. 
Then he said, in a clear voice, 



94 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 



" ' I recommend to you my son, 
Who is yet but young and small, 
And pray, that as you served me, 
So from your heart you would serve him.* 

" Then he called the king his father. 
And the Duke of Lancaster his brother, 
And commended to them his wife, 
And his son, whom he greatly loved, 
And straightway entreated them ; 
And each was willing to give his aid, 
Each swore upon the book, 
And they promised him freely 
That they would comfort his son. 
And maintain him in his right. 
All the princes and barons swore to this, 
And the noble Prince of fame 
Gave them an hundred thousand marks. 

** But till then — so God aid me — 
Never was seen such bitter grief 
As was at his departure. 
The right noble excellent prince 
Felt such pain at heart, 
That it almost burst with moaning and sighing, 
And crying out in his pain. 
So great suffering did he endure. 
That there was no man living 
Who had seen his agony 
But would have heartily pitied him." T 1 

ii. As the hours passed on, the prince, in 
the intervals of his frequent fainting fits, took 
leave of his favourite attendants, and spoke 
words of wise counsel and advice to his 
youthful son, Eichard of Bordeaux. But the 
old Plantagenet spirit sometimes found ex- 
pression. Among those who entered his 



AN EXORCISM. 95 

chamber, was one Sir Richard Strong, a. 
knight whose presence was specially offensive 
to him, and against whom, accordingly, he 
broke out in loud and passionate exclamations. 
The violence of his wrath resulted in a fit of 
unusual duration. When he rcovered, the 
Bishop of Bangor, who had administered to 
him the last offices of the Church, entreated 
him to vanquish within him the evil spirit of 
enmity, to forgive all who had offended, and 
to ask forgiveness for himself both of man 
and God. The dying prince answered 
simply, " I will." Not content with the reply, 
the Bishop renewed his exhortations: — ''It 
is not enough for you to say ' I will,' but 
where you have the power, you should de- 
clare your sorrow in words, and entreat 
forgiveness." j^gain the prince replied, " [ 
will." 

iii. The Bishop, grieved and amazed at this 
contumacy, exclaimed : — " I suppose there be 
here present some evil spirits who hinder his 
tongue, so that he cannot express his mind 
in words," and according to the custom of his 
Church, he proceeded with the solemn cere- 
monies of a formal exorcism. Scarcely had 
he sprinkled the four corners of the death- 



96 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

cliamber witli lioly water, before the prince 
regained his wiser and better self, and joining 
his hands together, and lifting up his eyes to 
heaven, cried aloud — '' I thank thee, O God, 
for all thy mercies, and with all the agony of 
my soul I beseech thee to grant me remission 
of the sins I have wickedly committed against 
thee ; and of all mortal men whom in wilful- 
ness or ignorance I have offended, most 
heartily do I entreat forgiveness." When he 
had uttered these words, says a contemporary 
chronicler, he gave up his spirit to God, as 
we believe, to His banquets, whose feast he 
thus reverenced on earth. And he departing, 
with him departed all the pride of English- 
men, for while he lived, they dreaded not the 
incursions of any enemy ; while he lived, they 
never suffered any rebuke for that .they had 
done evil, or forsaken the field. " The good 
fortune of England," writes Walsingham, 
'' as if it had been attached to his person, 
after flourishing in his health, and sickening 
in his sickness, died at his death. For with 
him expired all the hopes of Englishmen, 
who, during his life had feared no invasion of 
the enemy, nor encounter in a battle, inas- 
much as he went against no army that he did 



HIS MOURNERS. 97 

not defeat, and attacked no city that lie did 
not capture.'* 

iv. There was great sorrow in England 
when its mighty hero passed away. His 
father, already shaken in mind and body, 
was utterly prostrated by this heavy blow, 
and survived him but one year and thirteen 
days. His loyal brother-in-arms, the Captal 
de Buch, refased, in the depth of his sorrow, 
to take any food, and died, in a few days, of 
(literally) a broken heart. Even in France 
the mourning was as sincere as it was gene- 
rous, and in the Sainte Chapelle of the 
palace of the French King Loui-, son of the 
King John who had fallen a prisoner to the 
hero's arms on the field of Poitiers, funeral 
services were solemnly celebrated in honour 
of the most illustrious knight and truest gen- 
tleman of his age. 

V. From the 8th of June to the 29th of 
September, tha '' coffined body" of the Black 
Prince lay in siiinptuous state at Westininster, 
from whence it was reinove 1 in a richly de- 
corated hearse, drawn by twelve black 
chargers, to Canterbury. There the solemn 
procession was met by two riders in complete 

VOL. I. F 



98 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

armour, mounted on fully caparisoned steeds 
— one bearing the Prince's arms of England 
and France, the other his device of the os- 
trich feathers — one clothed in armour similar 
to the gorgeous suit the dead hero had worn 
upon the battle field ; the other in black mail 
such as he used for jousts and peaceful tour- 
naments. Four black banners followed, and 
so through tlie crowded and silent streets 
moved the dreary funeral train, until the gate 
of the Precincts was reached. Across its 
sacred threshold no armed men were suffered 
to pass, but the coffin, and its train of peers 
and nobles, and priests in sable array, moved 
slowly onward and entered the cathedral. 

vi. " In the space," says Canon Stanley, 
" between the high altar and the choir, a bier 
was placed to receive it, whilst the funeral 
services were read, surrounded with burning 
tapers, and with all the heraldic pomp which 
marked his title and rank. It must have been 
an august assemblage which took part in those 
funeral prayers. The aged king, in all pro- 
bability, was not there, but we cannot doubt 
that the executors were present. One was his 
rival brother, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lan- 
caster. Another was his long tried friend, 



HIS TOMB AT CANTERBURY. 99 

William of Wykeliam, Bishop of Winchester, 
whose name is still dear to hundreds of En- 
glishmen, old and yonng, from the two mag- 
nificent colleges which he founded at Win- 
chester and at Oxford. A third was 
Courtenaj, Bishop of London, wlio now lies 
at the Prince's feet, and a fourth Simon Sud- 
bury- who had been Archbishop of Canterbury 
in the previous years. And now, from the 
choir, the body was again raised up and car- 
ried to the tomb." 

vii. That tomb was not placed in the spot 
which the deceased Prince had indicated in 
his remarkable will, in the centre of the chapel 
which he himself had founded in commemo- 
ration of his marriage, but in the sacred space 
behind the altar, and on the south side of the 
shrine of St. Tnomas, in the chapel of the 
Holy Trinity. What pilgrim to England's 
noblest cathedral but has stood in silent rever- 
ence before that tomb ? There rests his Q^gy^ 
still vividly presenting the calm Plantagenet 
face, with its lofty brow, its hollow cheeks, its 
firm mouth and well shaped nose. Above is 
suspended the hero's armour — the gauntlets, 
the helm, the wooden shield, the velvet sur- 

F 2 



100 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

coat, and the scabbard empty of its sword. 
There, too, may be observed his device of the 
ostrich feathers, and on the canopy over the 
tomb the faded representation of the persons 
of the Holy Trinity, with the hero's famous 
motto, '' Houmout, Ich diene.'* And lastly 
you may still decipher the epitaph, in Norman 
French, which he himself composed during 
his long and wasting sickness — 

THE EPITAPH. 

Tu qe passez ove bouche close, par la ou c'est corps repose, 

Entent ce qe te dirray, sicome te dire la say, 

Tiel come tu es, je autiel fu ; Tu seras tiel come je su ; 

De la morfc ne pensay je mie, tant come j'avoy la vie. 

En terre avoy grand richesse, dont je y fys grand noblesse, 

Terre, mesons, eb grand tresor, draps, chivalx, argent et or. 

Mesore suje povres et cheitifs, perfond en la terre gys. 

Ma grand beaute est tout alee. Ma char est tout gastu ; 

Moult est estroite ma meson. En moy ne si verite non, 

Et si ore me veissez, je ne guide pas qe vous deissez, 

Qe j'eusse onges horn este, si suje ore de tout changee. 

Pur Dieu pries au celestien Roy, qe mercy eit de Tarme de moy. 

Tout cil qe pur moi prieront, ou a Dieu m'acorderont, 

Dieu les mette en son paray, ou nul nepoetestre cheitifs. 

viii. Thus rudely Englished by an old 
writer : 

" Thou who silent passest by 
Where this corpse interr'd doth lie, 
Hear what to thee I now shall show, 
Words that from experience flow : 
As tlwii art, once the World saw me ; . 
As Jam, so thou once shalt be. 



HIS EPITAPH. _ 101 

I little could my death divine, 
' When Life's bright lamp did sweetly shine, 
Vast wealth did o'er my coffers flow, 
Which I as freely did bestow ; 
Great Store of Mansions I did hold, 
Land, Wardrobes, Horses, Silver, Gold; 

But now I am of all bereft, 
And deep in ground alone am left ; 
My once admired Beauty's gone, 
My fiesh is wasted to the bone ; 
A narrow House doth me contain, 
All that I speak is true and plain ; 
And, if you should behold me here, 
You'd hardly think (I justly fear) 
That e'er to me the world did bow, 
I am so changed and altered now. 

For God's sake, pray to Heaven's high King 
To shade my Soul with Mercy's wing ; 
All those that try on bended knee 
To reconcile my God and me, 
God place them in His paradise, 
Where neither Death can be nor Vice." 

ix. Edward the Black Prince, as we have 
said, was the very " mirror of knighthood,'' 
a living illustration of the highest virtues and 
greatest faults of chivalry. He had its 
brilliant courage, its generous courtesy, its 
truthfulness, loyalty and honour. In the best 
spirit of chivalry he reverenced age and 
authority, and treated with scrupulous delicacy 
those whom the fortune of war made prisoners 
to his arms. But he had also its ferocity, and 
its cold disregard of the rights and feelings of 
all men who lived out of its narrow pale — the 



102 EDWARD OF WOODSTOCK. 

burgher, and the tiller — in a word, the " lower 
orders." Froissart says he was " as cour- 
ageous and as cruel as a lion;'' and the 
massacre of Limoges, and his desolating forays 
into the fairest provinces of France, are 
blots upon his scutcheon which his greatest 
panegyrist cannot deny. Yet, undoubtedly, 
he had in him all the elements of a truly 
heroic character. It is no light eulogium to 
pass upon even a prince and a hero, to say 
that he loved truth, reverenced . virtue, and 
obeyed God. We may regret that his con- 
ceptions of Christian duty were limited, but 
it is evident that beyond most of his illustrious 
contemporaries, he was inspired by an earnest 
faith in the doctrines of the Church. His 
domestic life, moreover, was adorned with the 
flowers of every household virtue. He was a 
loyal son, a devoted husband, a loving sire. 
And, finally, he possessed those special quali- 
ties which we are proud to recognise as the 
prominent characteristics of the Englishman — 
cool unflinching courage, unfailing self- 
reliance, respect for authority, and implicit 
recognition of the great law of duty. It seems 
to us that his favourite motto is at once the 
lesson taught by his career, and its best illus- 



HIS CHAKACTER. 103 

tration— "Houmout/' or lofty spirit^ and " Icli 
Dien," or lowly service. And, therefore, in 
concluding our sketch of this most illustrious 
of the Princes of England, we are content to 
adopt the language of Canon Stanley, and to 
say that '' not to soldiers only, bat to all who 
are engaged in the long warfare of life, is his 
conduct an example. To unite in our lives 
the two qualities expressed in his motto, is to 
be, indeed, not only a true gentleman and a 
true soldier, but a true Christian also. To 
show to all who differ from us, not only in 
war but in peace, that delicate forbearance, 
that fear of hurting another's feelings, that 
happy art of saying the right thing to the 
right person, which he showed to the captive 
king, would, indeed, add a grace and a charm 
to the whole course of this troublesome world, 
such as none can afford to lose, whether high 
or low. Happy are they, who having this 
gift by birth or station, use it for its highest 
purposes; still more happy are they, who 
having it not by birth and station,have acquired 
it, as it may be acquired, by christian gentle- 
ness and christian charity.'' 

X. '' And, " lastly, concludes Canon Stanley, 
'' to act in all the various difficulties of our 



104 EDWARD* OF WOODSTOCK. 

everyday life, with that coolness and calmness 
and faith in a higher power than his own, 
which he showed when the appalling danger 
of his situation burst upon him at Poitiers, 
would smooth a hundred difficulties, and 
ensure a hundred victories. We often think 
that we have no power in ourselves, no ad- 
vantages of position, to help us against our 
many temptations, to overcome the many 
obstacles we encounter. Let us take our 
stand by the Black Prince's tomb, and go back 
once more in thought to the distant fields of 
France. A slight rise in the wild upland 
plain, a steep lane through vineyards and 
underwood, this was all that he had, humanly 
speaking, on his side; but he turned it to the 
utmost use of which it could be made, and 
won the most glorious of battles. So, in like 
manner, our advantages may be slight — 
hardly perceptible to any but ourselves — let 
us turn them to account, and the results will 
be a hundred fold : we have only to adopt the 
Black Prince's bold and cheering words, when 
first he saw his enemies, ' God is my help — 
I must fight them as best I can ;' adding that 
lofty, yet resigned and humble prayer, which 
he uttered when the battle was pronounced 



CONCLUSION. 105 

inevitable, and wliich has since become a 
proverb, ' God defend the right !' ^' 

Such are the lessons to be derived from the 
career of the Black Prince, and from the lives 
of a long line of English heroes, for whom, as 
our English poet truly boasts, 

" The path of duty was the path of glory." » 



* The Princess Joan, waxing daily more corpulent and nnwieldly, 
survived her illustrious husband ten years, enjoying, as the widow ol 
their favourite hero, the great love and confidence of the commonalty. 
Her principal residences were the Tower, her mansion at Kennington, 
or the Royal Wardrobe-House, in Carter Lane. She died at Wafling- 
ford, and was buried in the Grey Friars' Chapel, at Stamford. 

The Black Prince had two natural sons : one Sir John de Sounder, 
of whom history says nothing, and the other Sir B/Oger de Clarendon, 
beheaded by Henry IV. for protesting that his half-brother, the 
deposed Richard II., was still alive. 

F 5 



CHAPTER 11. 



JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD, 
SON OF HENRY IV. 



[Authorities. — Chromcles of Froissart, Holinshed, Fabyan; 
Rapin's History of England ; Biog. Univ.. art. Jeanne d'Arc ; 
Dugdale's Baronage; Mezerai, Histoire de France; Roberts's 
History of the Houses of York and Lancaster ; Sismondi's His- 
tory of the French ; etc.] 



CHAPTER 11. 



JOHN PLANTAGENET, DUKE OP BEDFORD, THIRD 
SON OF HENRY IV. 



" A braver soldier never couch'd lance, 
A gentler heart did never sway in court." 

Shakespeare. 



i. John Plantagenet, Duke of Bedford, the 
third son of the astate Henry the Fourth, was 
born about 1393. 

Of his earlier years little authentic informa- 
tion can be obtained, but it seems evident 
that they gave full promise of the distinction 
his maturer manhood was to acquire. He re- 
ceived the usual chivalric education common 
in those stirring times to the sons of princes, 
nobles, and knights; he learned to manage 
his steed with skill, and to direct his lance 
with unerring aim. The treasures of the 
Greek and Eoman classic were not, indeed, 
revealed to him, though it is probable he may 



110 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

have known sometliing of the budding and nas- 
cent literature of his own country, the Lancas- 
trian princes having always shown themselves 
addicted to scholars and scholastic pursuits. 
We may suppose, then, that he relished the 
"native wood-notes wild" of glorious Chau- 
cer, perused with some degree of edification 
the heavier pages of " moral Gower,'' and 
mused with boyish wonder over the marvels 
of Sir John Mandeville. The Norman-French 
ballad poetry would probably be familiar to 
him ; but we may be sure he could write no 
'' clerkly hand," and that his educational ac- 
quirements were such as would now be deemed 
hardly sufficient to enable him to hold his own 
in cabinet or council. And yet, these un- 
lettered heroes, what great deeds they accom- 
plished ! With how firm a hand they grasped 
the sword ! With how ready an intellect they 
controlled the exigencies of an imperfect civi- 
lization ! How wide was their mental sweep 
— ^how comprehensive their knowledge of men 
and manners ! What they knew not from 
books they learned from early experience, and 
lived lives of heroic action and wonderful 
performance before they reached the age, at 
which, in our more effeminate times, our 



A SEA FIGHT. Ill 

"gowned pedants" abandon the "academic 
shade." 

iii. The stormy and cloud-obscured reign of 
Henry the Fourth closed in shadow and dark- 
ness, — the shadow and darkness of a remorse 
which no successful usurpation could assuage, 
— in 1413, when his gallant son, already 
created Duke of Bedford, was but in his 
twentieth year. His king brother, the future 
hero of Agincourt, immediately distinguished 
him with his special confidence, and with a 
soldier's eye recognised the young prince's 
high qualities as knight and soldier. He ap- 
pointed him, in 1416, to the command of an 
English fleet destined for the relief of Har- 
fleur, which was then beleaguered by an over- 
powering French force. The Duke's armada 
consisted of 500 small vessels, the " cock 
boats" of an infant navy, hardly larger than a 
Brighton lugger ! Their entrance of the Seine 
was disputed (August 15, 1416), by a power- 
ful fleet of large Genoese carracks, which had 
been hired by the French for naval warfare. 
The battle was unequal, but English blood 
was hot with the glorious memory of Azin- 
court, and fiercely disputed the fight for five 
long hours, with such success that three great 



112 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. I 

carracks and many smaller vessels fell Into 
the Duke's hands, and 1,500 of the enemy 
were slain ; and Harfleur was rescued. 

iv. The military career of the Duke, how- 
ever, can scarcely be said to have begun, 
until death had removed his great brother 
from the scene which the splendour of his 
glory so completely occupied. \^'hile the 
hero-king strode the echoing stage, all eyes 
were fixed upon him, and all martial success 
seemed to centre in him alone. During 
Henry's second invasion and temporary con- 
quest of France in 1417-8, Duke John re- 
mained in England, at the head of the regency, 
and conducted the government with such pru- 
dence and ability as to compose the dissen- 
sions of rival parties and secure the general 
tranquillity of the kingdom. 

V. Henry signalised his conquest of France 
by his marriage with Katharine, eldest 
daughter of the King whom he had virtually 
despoiled of his crown, on the 2nd of June, 

1420. After a triumphal progress through 
the gay provinces he had subdued, the vic- 
torious monarch returned to England, in 

1421, to enjoy the delights of matrimonial 
felicity and the acclamations of an enthusias- 



MOVEMENTS IN FEANCE. 113 

tic people. But France was not cruslied, 
thougli temporarily quelled. At the disas- 
trous battle of Bang J, in Anjou, the king's 
younger brother, Thomas of Clarence, was 
slain, and the Dauphin's faction gained a sig- 
nal victory. To subdue at once the rising 
hopes which this unexpected turn of fortune 
awakened in the heart of France, Henry again 
led his soldiers to the fight, and success as 
usual attended the great captain's banners. 
After inflicting a series of crushing defeats 
upon the Dauphin, Henry captured the strong 
town of Meaux, and pushed on to Paris, which 
he entered in triumphal pomp on the 30th of 
May, 1422. Throughout this ably conducted 
expedition the Duke of Bedford accompanied 
him, and it was to his hands the dying king 
resigned the command of the English army 
when the rapid inroads of disease compelled 
him to withdraw from the field. At the Bois 
de Vincennes, some Rye or six weeks after 
this event, the hero of Azincourt breathed his 
last, terminating his ' brilliant "life of bold 
shocks and deeds" in his 34th year, on the 
31st of August, 1423. 

vi. Henry VI. was not quite nine months 



114 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFOKD. 

old when thus suddenly called upon to wear 
the crowned helm of his warrior-father. His 
protection, and the administration of his king- 
dom, were placed bj Henry V. in the hands 
of his two uncles — Humphrey, popularly cal- 
led the "good Duke" of Gloucester, who di- 
rected the affairs of England — and John of 
Bedford, whose military capacity marked him 
out as best fitted for the difficult and perilous 
post of Eegent of France. It is with the 
future career of the latter that we have now 
to concern ourselves. 

vii. Charles VI. of France, rightly surnamed 
" the Simple," did not long survive his Eng- 
lish son-in-law, and on his decease, in Octo- 
ber, Henry VI. was formally proclaimed in 
Paris and elsewhere King of France. But a 
powerful competitor at once appeared in the 
person of the Dauphin, the lawful heir, as 
bold of spirit and capacious of intellect as 
his father had been weak and imbecile, who 
was crowned at Poitiers with great solemnity 
as Charles VII. A powerful party rallied to 
his support, and he prepared to rescue his 
kingdom from the English grasp ; while, on 
the other hand, the Duke of Burgundy, mind- 



MISFORTUNES OF FRANCE. 115 

ful of Ms father's slaughter by the Armagnacs, 
brought his levies and resources to the aid of 
Henry the Sixth. 

viii. Between the two great factions un- 
happy France stood like some fair maid, the 
prize of two ruthless captors, who can hope 
for little safety from the success of either. No 
great battle marked the year 1423, — no whole- 
sale massacre on regular military principles — - 
but almost every day was distinguished by 
some bloody skirmish, some village desolated, 
or some town harried with fire and sword. 
Her fairest provinces were laid waste ; her 
quiet homesteads uprooted ; until the French 
peasant hated with equal hate Burgundian 
and Armagnac, English and Anjouite, — -the 
invader from the far isle, and the soldier 
nurtured m blood and rapine on the soil of 
France herself. During these continued strug- 
gles, however, the Eegent Duke held the 
helm of the state with a steady grasp, and 
the English power gradually asserted itself 
over a considerable portion of the kingdom. 
For Bedford, while pursuing military opera- 
tions with characteristic vigour, did not neg- 
lect those subtler movements by which diplo- 
macy so often wins in the cabinet what the 



116 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

sword* has lost on tlie field. He concluded a 
solemn pact and '' brotherhood of arms" with 
Pliilip, Duke of Burgundy, and John, Duke 
of Brittany, — the three princes binding them- 
selves by all due chivalrous oaths to remain 
loyal and true each to the other, and support 
each other with their united arms. And, as 
in the history of nations it is noticeable that 
few important treaties have been concluded 
without the adddition of, or in connection 
with, a matrimonial alliance, this Brother- 
hood of Arms was rightly sanctioned by the 
marriage of the Eegent Duke to the fair 
Princess Anne, sister of Philip of Burgundy 
(A.D. 1423). 

ix. Against the arms and diplomatic skill 
of Bedford, the French King, however, could 
oppose one powerful counter-agent ; that 
principle of legitimacy which, in all ages and 
all countries, has exercised a powerful in- 
fluence upon the minds of men. The party 
of Charles VII. continued to increase, not 
because he was as able or as daring as Bed- 
ford, not because it was probable he would 
prove a better sovereign than Henry VI., 
but because he was the legitimate king, and 
daily defections took place from the English 



AT IVKY. 117 

faction of nobles, knights, and squires, who 
recognised in him the lawful occupant of the 
French throne. As his partv increased in 
strength, so it increased in boldness, and the 
time evidently drew near when both sides 
would appeal to arms on a wider scale, and 
with more decisive results, than had jet been 
attempted. 

X. There is a town in Normandy which 
still bears the name of Ivry, a quiet, pleasant, 
sunny little cluster of dwellings, in a fair, 
wooded, and well-watered country side. It 
still boasts, we believe, of some scanty ruins 
of its ancient castle, and it is associated with 
the memory of the remarkable victory won 
by Henri Quatre over the League, which 
Macaulay has immortalised in a war-song of 
great power. Early in 1424 the English 
army was posted before Ivry and its castle, 
to compel their surrender ; and after a pro- 
tracted siege, the Governor had at length 
agreed to yield them up unless relief should 
arrive within a stipulated period. 

xi. It was determined by the leading par- 
tisans of King Ciiarles — the Duke d'Alen^,on 
and Count d'Aumerle — to save Ivry from 
falling into the hands of the English, and 



118 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

gathering together a body of 20,000 men, tliej 
proceeded with all haste to its relief. But 
the Regent Duke obtainmg intelligence of the 
attempt, moved with equal celerity to oppose 
their progress, and with about 10,000 troops 
threw himself in their line of march. Alen^on 
did not dare to face him, and retreated with 
as much haste as he had previously advanced. 
Meanwhile, Bedford made himself master of 
the important town of Verneuil, and in the 
neighbourhood encamped his forces, until Ivry 
had surrendered to the besieging army. He 
then recommenced his pursuit of the enemy, 
whom he found drawn up in one long line to 
oppose his march, with an ambuscade of 2000 
cavalry in a neighbouring wood prepared to 
burst upon the English rear at a suitable 
moment. 

xii. The English Captain appears to have 
discovered the simple stratagem of his foe, and 
hastily protected his rear by a rude species of 
fortification, not constructed on principles 
known to modern Engineers. He caused 
most of his men-at-arms to dismount, and 
their horses were then fastened together, and 
linked with the baggage so as to form a 
tolerably effective barricade. Here he dis- 



BATTLE OF VERNEUIL. 119 

posed two thousand bowmen, together with a 
body of pages, the camp-varlets, and other 
"irregulars." Then drawing his little armj 
up in close array, he addressed them in a 
stirring harangue, appealing to their loyalty, 
their patriotism, and their hearty English 
scorn of an enemy whom they had so often 
conquered. Tliey answered him with that 
deep rolling cheer of earnest meaning, which, 
as the old historian tells us, always smote the 
souls of the French with wonder, and which, 
on many a glorious field, from Cre^y to 
Waterloo, and Waterloo to Ferozeshur and 
Aliwal, the Alma, and the Peiho, has been 
the sure and certain prelude of victory ! 
Then the two foes joined in the battle-grapple, 
and swords clashed, and cannons thundered, 
and the shrill trumpet rang above all the 
uproar of the fiercely-contested field ! For 
nearly an hour the hot fight continued with- 
out pause or delay, and swaying neither to the 
one side nor the other. Then the French 
ambush thought to seize an easy triumph ; 
and breaking out of the wood, fell fast upon 
the English rear. But against the Duke of 
Bedford's fortalice and garrison they fell with 
such scant success that, quickened by a sting- 



120 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

ing shower of English arrows, they fairly 
took to their heels and fled ; relieved from 
this attack, the bowmen were ready to ad- 
vance to the support of the main battle, and 
their arrival determined the fate of the day. 
Encouraged by the accession, Bedford's 
soldiers pressed heavily upon the foe, broke 
through his line, and plunged the disorderly 
mass into an inextricable confusion. All was 
over. The rush of the English became re- 
sistless, and the French abandoned the well- 
foughten field with a loss of f 000 killed, their 
noblest, best, and bravest. Nor was the 
victory of Verneuil won by the conquerors at 
an easy cost. 1600 of their dead lay upon 
the battle-plain. 

xiii. By this great victory the supremacy 
of England was for a time completely estab- 
lished. Maine and Anjou were added to its 
continental dominions, after a protracted 
struggle, and the French king, having no 
longer an army to support his cause, willingly 
abandoned himself to one of those long inter- 
vals of luxurious indolence which enervated 
and obscured his naturally strong and com- 
prehensive intellect. At Tours or Poitiers he 
slumbered over the wine cup, or dallied with 



SIEGE OF ORLEANS. 121 

loose women, while his barons in vain at- 
tempted to cope with the unresting energy 
and resolute courage of the illustrious Regent 
Duke. Mile by mile, and league by league, 
was pushed forward the English frontier, until 
it menaced the last provinces held by Charles 
VII., and the arrival, on May, 1428, of 
the famous Earl of Salisbury — father of the 
still more famous Earl of Warwick — with a 
large reinforcement of soldiery, enabled the 
Duke of Bedford to undertake a campaign on 
a grand and comprehensive scale. 

xiv. He resolved, therefore, to seize upon 
Orleans, a town of great importance from its 
wealth and position, and the last stronghold 
of the French monarchy north of the Loire. 
Once in his possession, it would become ^ point 
dj apjpui^ from which might be directed a series 
of deadly blows, calculated to crush out the 
very embers of resistance. - While he, him- 
self, therefore, remained in Paris to con- 
solidate and define his scheme of operations, 
and to raise the necessary funds by whatever 
means he could, Salisbury was ordered to 
undertake the siege of this fair city on the 
Loire, and having seized upon Meung, Join- 

VOL. I. G 



122 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

ville, and other places in its vicinity, the Earl 
commenced his investment on the 12th of 
October, 1428. 

XV. Orleans stands upon the north bank of 
the smmy Loire, surrounded by fertile plains, 
and embowered in prolific vineyards. Its 
citizens, in the year 1428, v^ere men of gal- 
lant and patriotic spirit, not unworthy of the 
beautiful city which had bred and nurtured 
them. Eazing its suburbs down to the very 
river bank, levelling all the leaf-shrouded 
chateaux which adorned its landscapes, stor- 
ing up ample supplies of food, ammunition, 
and arms, they prepared to offer a steady re- 
sistance to the English forces. The defence 
was further sustained by a garrison of the best 
troops of France, and it was evident that both 
parties were fully aware of the value of the 
prize for which they contended, and resolved 
to spare no exertions by which it might be 
secured. 

xvi. Notwithstanding the vskilful prepara- 
tions of the besieged — notwithstanding the 
flame of the cannon and the rattle of the 
cross-bows which armed every battlement 
and protected every point of vantage — the 
English approaches were steadily pushed for- 



DEATH OF SALISBUEY. 123 

wards and their advance defended, as Mons- 
trelet remarks, m accordance with the cus- 
tom of English warfare, by rude works of 
earth. These in time were connected one 
with another, and strengthened by towers and 
bastions, until the city was completely gird- 
led with the fortifications of the besiegers. 
The bridge over the Loire was held by a 
fortalice or tower of considerable strength. 
From this commanding post the French were 
driven after a desperate resistance, and it was 
instantly occupied by an English garrison, 
with the view of directing its fire upon the 
city. For this purpose, the Earl of Salisbury 
a captain of great ability, who had conducted 
the operations of the si^ge with vigour and 
success, ascended it to reconnoitre the posi- 
tion. But while gazing from one of its higher 
windows he was struck by a stone shot, fired 
from the beleaguered city, and so sorely 
wounded, that within eight days he died. He 
was succeeded in the command by De la Pole? 
Earl of Suffolk, as brave a knight, but far less 
competent a captain, and who enjoyed but 
partially the confidence of his soldiers. The 
regret which was universally felt in the 

Q 2 



124: JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 



English armj at tlie death of their famous 
chieftain has been commemorated bj Shakes- 
peare : 

" Accursed tower ; accursed fatal hand, 
That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy. 
In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame ; 
Henry the Fifth he first trained to the wars ; 
"Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up, 
His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field." 

xvii. But neither the death of Salisbury, 
nor the vigorous efforts which Charles VII. — 
roused from his apathy by the commanding 
influence of the beautiful Agnes Sorel — made 
for the relief of the beleaguered city ; neither 
the gallant resistance of the citizens, nor the 
valour of the famous Dunois, could impede 
the progress of the English. 

" Rather with their teeth, 
The walls they'll tear down, than forsake the siege." 

xviii. Dunois made a desperate effort to 
intercept a large convoy of provisions des- 
patched from Paris for the English camp, 
and the foray was headed by the elite of the 
chivalry of France. But Suffolk, in due time, 
threw out a body of stout English yeomen, 
and these dealt such lusty blows upon the 
helm and cuirass of knight and noble that 




Maid of Orleans. 



THE MAID OF ORLEANS. 125 

they were fain to make an ignominious re- 
treat. As the stores intended for the English 
consisted largely of salted fish, this remark- 
able engagement was popularly known as the 
" Battle of the Herrings," and the ill-success 
of the French chevaliers against the English 
commons, sorely discouraged the minds both 
of Charles VII. and his subjects. 

xix. Dark enough, at this conjuncture, 
seemed the fortunes of France. Her treasure 
was empty ; her armies no longer existed ; 
her best and bravest had fallen before the 
bows of English peasants ; her fairest pro- 
vinces were trodden by the red hoof of con- 
quest. Yet, for nations as for men, at the 
bottom of all evils lies the vitality of hope, 
and the bow of promise spreads its glittering 
arch- across the darkest cloud and deepest 
shadow. In this hour of peril, disaster, and 
despondency, the salvation of France was as- 
sured by a young and ignorant peasant maid, 
and the genius of Bedford, and the valour and 
power of England were doomed to be bafiled 
by the weak arm but patriot heart of the 
Maid of Orleans. 

XX. This remarkable woman, whose history 
is so much obscured by the extravagant 



126 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFOED. 

calumnies of her foes, and the absurd panegy- 
rics of her adulators, that it is difficult to 
separate the fabulous from the true, was born 
about the year 1410 or 1411, in the small ham- 
let of Domremy, about 9 miles from Vancou- 
leurs, on the borders of Champagne. Her 
parents were reputable peasants of a low 
degree, and her breeding and education neces- 
sarily according to her position ; but we are 
told that from her earliest years her character 
was distinguished by a remarkable religious 
enthusiasm, which undoubtedly prepared her 
mind for the reception of a powerful patriotic 
impulse. The neighbourhood in which she 
lived was strongly Armagnac, or loyalist, in 
feeling, and thus, with legends of the Virgin, 
and fables of the saints, she insensibly imbibed 
the rude loyal traditions of the peasants, and 
blended her devotion to Heaven with a fer- 
vent love of her king. A prophecy had been 
for years accepted by the common people, 
that the redemption of France would be secured 
by a virgin, and this prophecy had doubtless 
its influence upon Joan's susceptible imagina- 
tion, which religious meditations had already 
wrought to a state of perilous excitement, 
xxi. Joan was only 13 years of age when a 



VOICES OF HEAYEN. 127 

supernatural liglit first illumined her distem- 
pered dreams. A sudden splendour, slie said, 
broke upon her vision, and a still, small voice 
bade her be true, and pure, and devout, for 
that the tutelage of Heaven was especially 
reserved for her. To this heavenly appeal she 
responded by a vow of life-long chastity — a 
vow the more remarkable in a young woman 
of such surpassing beauty, and singular per- 
sonal strength. Henceforth she continually 
heard the mysterious Heavenly Voices — each 
vision increasing in distinctness and depth — 
as the imagination grew in strength and fer- 
vency by what it fed upon. What her heart 
and her fancy prompted, the day- watches and 
the night-vigils naturally fashioned for her. 
There is but little difference between the en- 
thusiast and the poet. Each creates for him- 
self his own wild or sweet delusions, and gives 
to the airy nothings of his fancy " a local 
habitation and a name." And thus Joan of 
Arc, without guile or stratagem, but in her 
very simplicity and innocence, became a prey 
to the deception she herself had nourished. 
Shakespeare, in his own deep knowledge of 
the human heart, did not fail to test the reality 
of the maiden's self belief, and so he puts into 



128 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

her mouth the words of one who has faith in 
what she speaks of: — 



Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter, 

My wit untrain'd by any kind of art. 

Heaven, and our Lady gracious, hath it pleas'd 

To shine on my contemptible estate : 

Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, 

And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, 

God's mother deigned to appear to me ; 

And, in a vision full of majesty, 

Will'd me to leave my base vocation, 

And free my country from calamity : 

Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success : 

In complete glory she reveal'd herself ; 

And, whereas I was black and swart before. 

With those clear rays which she infus'd on me, 

That beauty am I bless'd with which you may see." 



xxii. The voices which fired the imagina- 
tion and nerved the heart of the Virgin- War- 
rior now directed her to commence her holy 
mission, and she contrived to obtain an inter- 
view, in May, 1428, with De Baudricourt, the 
governor of Vaucouleurs. To him she told 
her marvellous story, but De Baudricourt was 
a soldier, and nothing more. He knew not 
the power of enthusiasm, even as a political 
agent, and, at first, treated Joan and her celes- 
tial revelations with all the scorn of an igno- 
rant mind. Not the less did she continue to 
revolve in her imagination the object of her 



A HEKOINE. 129 

life, and to repeat tliat the current propliecj 
. . " France lost by a woman (Isabeau of Ba- 
varia) should be saved by a virgin of Lor- 
raine" . . alluded to her. 

xxiii. The fortunes of Charles VIT. had 
sunk to so low an ebb that De Baudricourt 
appears to have concluded no possible injury 
could be inflicted upon them by the introduc- 
tion upon the scene of the inspired Joan. He, 
therefore, licensed two of Joan's converts — • 
for by this time she had a large faction of 
believers — ^John of Metz and Bertram of Pou- 
lengy, to conduct her to the Dauphin. These 
faithful attendants purchased for her a suit- 
able horse, and equipped her, at her own 
wish, in masculine attire. Thus provided, 
and defended by a sufficient escort, she set 
out on her memorable journey on the 13th of 
February, 1429, and arrived in safety, on the 
24:th, at Ghinon, where the Dauphin then 
held his court. 

xxiv. Her reception was not encouraging. 
She was met by some with mistrust, by others 
with scorn, by many with open hostility. 
'' She was not even admitted," says an able 
writer, '' to the Dauphin's presence without 

G 5 



130 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

difficulty, and was required to recognise 
Charles amid all his court: this Joan hap- 
pily was able to do, as well as to gain the 
good opinion of the young monarch by the 
simplicity of her demeanour. Nevertheless, 
the prince proceeded to take every precaution 
before he openly trusted her. He first handed 
her over to a commission of ecclesiastics, to 
be examined •, then sent her for the same pur- 
pose to Poitiers, a great law-school, that the 
doctors of both faculties might solemnly decide 
whether Joan's mission was from heaven or 
the devil ; for none believed it to be 
merely human. The best and surest guarantee 
against sorcery was considered to be the 
chastity of the young girl, it being an axiom, 
that the devil would not or could not take 
part with a virgin ; and no pains were spared 
to ascertain her true character in this respect. 
In short, the utmost incredulity could not 
have laboured harder to find out imposture, 
than did the credulity of that day to establish 
its grounds of belief. Joan was frequently 
asked to do miracles, but her only reply was, 
" Bring me to Orleans, and you shall see. 
The siege shall be raised, and the dauphin 
crowned king at Rheims." 



BELIEF OF ORLEANS. 131 

" What inwardly the spirit 
l*rompted, I spake ; armed with the sword of God 
To drive from Orleans far the English wolves, 
And crown thee in the rescued walls of Rheims." 

SOUTHEY. 

XXV. At length, either policy or convic- 
tion prevailed. Her prophecies and her 
visions were adopted by the royal faction as 
a means of reviving the exhausted courage of 
the nation. She was attired in a splendid suit 
of armour, and armed with a sword for which 
she had sent to Fierbois, declaring that it would 
be found interred in a certain place within the 
church, and which was discovered where she 
had indicated. Then she set out for Orleans. 
It was her special desire to enter the city 
from the north, and boldly pass through all 
the fortifications of the English. But Dunois 
and his fellow captains had not quite the 
same confidence in her mission as she had, 
and prevailed upon her to quit her small but 
devoted escort, and enter the beleagured city 
by water. In this she succeeded, carrying 
with her a convoy of provisions. Those who 
rightly estimate the superstitious feelings of 
all great assemblages, and the avidity with 
which the mind of the commonalty grasps at 
any evidence of the supernatural or marvel- 



132 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

lous, will understand tlie frenzy of enthusiasm, 
the madness of delight which greeted her ar- 
rival. (April, 1429). Already France was 
half-saved by the new inspiration communi- 
cated to her sons. The besiegers themselves 
were daunted by the sudden access of confi- 
dence which had happened to the besieged, 
and the stout yeomen of England, who had 
successfully wrestled with the strength of 
France on many an unequal field, felt them- 
selves quail before the presence of a young 
and beautiful maid. 

xxvi. Joan announced her arrival to her 
enemies by a herald, who bore to the English 
leader her command that they should imme- 
diately begone from France, or they would 
slay them. The summons was received with 
furious scorn. The herald was detained, and 
threatened with death at the stake, as a 
specimen of the fate reserved for her mistress. 
But if the English leaders were indignant, 
the English soldiery were alarmed. Super- 
stition was Joan of Arc's most powerful ally. 
Taking in her hand her consecrated banner, 
armed cap-a-pi^ like a knight, and mounted 
on a white horse, she led her troops against 
the English, whose strong positions were 



DEFEAT OF THE ENGLISH. 133 

captured one after another. On the 5th of 
May fell the fort of St. Loup, after a gallant 
resistance. On the 6tli, after another sum- 
mons to the English, signed " Jhesus Maria 
and Jehanne La Pucelle," she attacked the 
other forts, and such was the enthusiasm 
which her presence communicated to her own 
partisans— such the dismay it produced in the 
English ranks — she was entirely successful. 
Within one week from her entrance into 
Orleans the siege was raised, and the city 
saved. 

xxvii. A triumph so extraordinary ex- 
cited universal attention, and no one doubted 
now but that the Virgin- Warrior was inspired 
by some supernatural agency. The English 
declared she was but the tool and instrument 
of Satan ; the French enthusiastically regarded 
her as directly favoured and distinguished by 
Heaven. But as both considered her no 
ordinary mortal, the effect upon both armies 
tended to the same result — the success of the 
French through the confidence she inspired, 
and the defeat of the English through the 
terror she awakened. 

xxviii. The English had suffered severely 
before the walls of Orleans, and the Earl of 



134: JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

SufTolk, dividing his little army into two 
bodies, retreated with one of them upon 
Sargeau, while the chivalrous Talbot with the 
other retired to Meung. At Sargeau, Suffolk 
and his 400 gallant men were surrounded by 
an army of about 8,000, before the Duke of 
Bedford could send him any reinforcements 
from Paris. They defended themselves with 
heroic resolution, and only after a succession 
of overwhelming assaults did the gallant band 
succumb. 

xxix. Talbot now retreated towards Paris, 
where the Eegent was vainly endeavouring 
to raise both money and men. But his party 
was daily diminishing. Throughout the 
length and breadth of France had spread the 
renown of the Maid of Orleans ; determining 
the vacillating, terrifying the weak, stimulat- 
ing the patriotic. From every hamlet went 
forth the villager, from every field the plough- 
man, to fight under the sacred banner of the 
Maid of Orleans. The baron armed himself 
anew, and the man-at-arms once more capa- 
risoned his steed. The burgher gave up his 
broad pieces, a ad the burgher's wife her pre- 
cious stones. The spark had fallen upon the 
long desolate altar, and the divine flame of 



INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM. 135 

patriotism rose heavenward with a pure and 
holj light. The electric force of enthusiasm 
had wakened into a sudden and not transient 
existence the better feelings of the nation, 
and France rose with a noble courage to free 
herself from the shackles of a hated con- 
quest. 

XXX. Against the loyalty of an united 
country not all the genius of the Duke of 
Bedford, not all the courage of such heroes as 
Talbot and Warwick, could hope to prevail. 
But the Eegent did not lay down his sword. 
Stripping Paris of almost all the troops which 
were garrisoned there, partly to defend and 
partly to overawe it, he dispatched them to 
Talbot's assistance. They effected a junction, 
but were almost immediately attacked near 
Patay, by a largely superior force, under the 
Duke d'Alengon and the Maid of Orleans, 
and after a most desperate resistance — a re- 
sistance which is lauded by the French chro- 
niclers themselves for its heroic gallantry — 
were defeated, and the chivalrous Talbot 
fell into the hands of the victors, severely 
wounded. 

xxxi. The llaid of Orleans, excited by 



136 JOHN, DUKE OF DEDFORD. 

these great successes, now urged the king to 
enable her to fulfil her mission, and proceed 
to Rheims that he might receive the crown of 
France with rightful solemnity. After some 
hesitation, Charles determined upon adopting 
her policy, whose chances of success lay in its 
very boldness, and collecting a considerable 
army, the intrepid Maid daringly moved for- 
ward upon Rheims. Her appearance was 
everywhere the signal of success. The con- 
secrated banner fluttered its silken folds 
before the gates of Troyes, and that strong 
and important town threw wide its gates. 
The glitter of her armour terrified the soldiers 
of Auxerre, and Chalons submitted at the 
sound of her trumpets. Finally, she led her 
king into Rheims, just five months after her 
departure from Vaucouleurs, and there in the 
seat of the French king, in the old historic 
cathedral, the scene of so many memorable 
events, she placed the crown of France on the 
head of Charles VII. 

** The morn was fair 
When Rheims re-echoed to the busy hum 
Of multitudes, for high solemnity 
Assembled. To the holy fabric moves 
The long procession, through the streets bestrewn 



COEONATION OF CHARLES VII. 137 

With flowers and laurel-boughs. The courtier throng 

Were there, and they in Orleans who endured 

The siege right bravely ; Gaucour, and La Hire, 

The gallant Xaintrailles, Boussac, and Chabaunes, 

La Fayette, name that freedom still shall love, 

Alengon, and the bravest of the brave, 

The bastard Orleans, now in hope elate, 

Soon to release from hard captivity 

A dear beloved brother ; gallant men, 

And worthy of eternal memory. 

For they, in the most perilous times of France, 

Despair'd not of their country. By the king 

The delegated damsel pass'd along, 

Clad in her batter'd arms. She bore on high 

Her hallow'd banner to the sacred pile, 

And fix'd it on the altar, whilst her hand 

Pour'd on the monarch's head the mystic oil." 

SOUTHEY. 

xxxii. The Duke of Bedford now redoubled 
Lis efforts to break down the rapidly increas- 
ing power of the French sovereign, and sum- 
moned to his councils his powerful ally and 
brother-in-law, the Duke of Burgundy. The 
two princes met at Paris, and there agreed 
that the Eegent should levy what troops he 
could, and advance against the enemy, while 
the Burgundians exerted themselves to sow 
dissensions in the councils of Charles, and 
divide his army. Bedford ordered a body of 
4,000 Englishmen, whom Cardinal Beaufort 
designed to lead into Bohemia, to join him at 
Paris, and having thus raised his army to the 
number of 10,000 men, he boldly set out to 



158 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

encounter the hosts of the French King, who 
then lay near Montereau. 

xxxiii. On nearing the French encamp- 
ment the Regent despatched a herald with a 
formal defiance to the king, daring him to do 
battle for his crown. Charles wrathfullj re- 
plied that he would seek the Duke of Bedford 
sooner than the Duke would seek him ; but 
reflection taught him that superior numbers 
had not saved the honour of France at Cre^y, 
Poitiers, or Azincourt, and that a defensive 
and dilatory policy, while strengthening him, 
could not but weaken his already enfeebled 
foe. He, therefore, determined not to stake 
the fortunes of his kingdom on the chances of 
a single battle^ and rapidly withdrew upon 
Senlis. Here he halted. The duke soon 
came up with him, and prepared for an en- 
gagement, convinced that at last his enemy 
stood at bay. Accordingly he took up his 
position on a rising piece of ground, massing 
his archers in front, with their flanks well 
protected by thick hedges and dense enclo- 
sures, and his horsemen assembled in his rear, 
like a thunder-cloud ready to burst upon a 
devoted land. 

xxxiv. It seemed at first as if Charles 



SKIEMISHES. 139 

would renounce liis prudent policy of defence, 
and accept the gage thrown down by his 
heroic antagonist. He drew up his army in 
battle-array, and occupied the day, and the 
day following, in vain attempts to draw the 
English from their formidable position. But 
as the Duke was not to be deceived, Charles 
retired with his army under the cover of night, 
and fell back upon Brie. 

XXXV. While the two armies had been oc- 
cupied in these fruitless movements, a strong 
detachment of the French, under the Con- 
stable de Richemont, had marched upon 
Evreux, and threatened the important and 
fertile province of Normandy, which, for 
nearly four centuries, had belonged to the 
English crown. The Eegent, therefore, 
found himself placed between two evils. If 
he turned aside upon the Constable, he 
opened the road to Paris to the King's forces ; 
if he continued his advance, he exposed 
Normandy to the fire and sword of a daring 
partisan. He adopted the former alternative, 
and leaving a strong garrison in Paris, 
marched upon Pouen. 

XXX vi. Charles immediately pressed for- 
ward to Compiegne, which submitted without 



140 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD, 

a siege, and traversing Picardy ani3 Artois 
with all possible speed, arrived before Paris. 
That fair " Lucretia,'* however, for which he 
longed so eagerly, was not yet destined to 
fall into his hands. The Duke d'Alenqon, 
accompanied by Joan of Arc, made a spirited 
assault on the Porte de St. Eonore, but it 
was stoutly defended by the English, who 
had now lost their awe of the Heaven -in spired 
Maicl, and after a five hours' conflict, hand to 
hand, and foot to foot, the French were re- 
pulsed with heavy loss. The heroine of 
Orleans was severely wounded in the mel6e, 
and left in the ditch or fosse of the city, until 
her friends under the shadows of night, could 
bear her away in safety. The French were 
so dismayed by this signal defeat that they 
instantly broke up their camp, and retired to 
Senlis. 

xxxvii. Having rescued Normandy from 
the peril which had menaced her, the Regent 
now returned to Paris, where high political 
affairs demanded his attention. An attempt 
had been made by Charles VII. to arrange a 
treaty of peace with the Duke of Burgundy, 
and detach him from the English alliance. 
The Eegent contrived to frustrate this at- 



CAPTURE OF JOAN OF ARC. 141 

tempt, and bj tlie promise of the government 
of Paris to bind his allegiance to his partj 
with yet greater firmness, and the two princes 
made such preparations for a new campaign 
that they menaced destruction to all the newly 
formed hopes of the French king. Chateau 
Gaillard, which commands the valley of the 
Seine, and the communication between Paris 
and Rouen ; Torcy and Aumale, both fortified 
places of importance, fell before the Duke's 
advance, while the Burgundians on their part 
made themselves masters of Choisy-sur-Oise 
and Gournay. They then pressed forward co 
the leaguer of Compi^gne, where the Maid of 
Orleans had stationed herself to revive the 
drooping spirits of the French. Before the 
regular investment began, she determined to 
harass a body of the enemy who were con- 
centrating at Marigny ; but unknown to her 
several of the Burguridian leaders had made 
it their head quarters, and she found herself 
in the midst of a far superior force. With 
great courage she attempted to cut her way 
back to Compi^gne, but was overpowered and 
captured, together with most of the men-at- 
arms who accompanied her. An archer, it is 
said, drew her from her horse, and made her 



142 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

prisoner. At all events, upon payment of her 
ransom, the Burgundians delivered the hap- 
less heroine into the hands of the English, 
by whom she was carried to Eouen to stand 
her trial as a heretic and a witch ! (23rd May, 
1340). In these proceedings the Regent had 
little share, and it is probable that his strong 
clear intellect fully appreciated the nature of 
the influence which the warrior-maid had ex- 
ercised over her countrymen. Nor, indeed, 
is there any just foundation for the tradition 
that she was cruelly ill-used in her captivity, 
unjustly condemned of witchcraft, and foully 
murdered by being burnt in the market-place 
of Eouen. Some modern writers are of 
opinion that Joan eventually obtained her re- 
lease ; that she annulled her vow of chastity, 
and entered the marriage state, — leaving be- 
hind her a posterity who, for many years, 
enjoyed the reverent love of France, and were 
supported at the national expense. How ra- 
pidly these dreams, 'these shadows, which so 
thickly throng the night-time of European 
history, — strange, marvellous, and romantic 
— vanish as the dawn of advancing knowledge 
spreads a clearer and broader light around ! 
xxxviii. It was at this epoch that, to warm 



COEONATION OF HENRY VI. 143 

— if possible — the feelings of the nation into 
loyalty to their king by presenting him be- 
fore them in all the grace and attractiveness 
of an ingenuous youth, the Duke of Bedford 
succeeded in pursuading the king^s council to 
send him over to France. Escorted by a 
large body of troops he arrived at Rouen, in 
the summer of 1432, and flung some of the 
graces of royal pomp over the horrors of a 
long-protracted war. From thence he pro- 
ceeded to Paris, where his coronation was 
celebrated with much splendour, and again 
returned to Rouen on his way to England. 

xxxix. As far as Calais the Regent accom- 
panied him, and having quelled a revolt 
which had broken out in that important 
stronghold, and which threatened to swell to 
formidable proportions, he prepared to return 
to Paris. On his way he received intelligence 
of the death of his fair wife, the sister of the 
Duke of Burgundy, who had expired in giv- 
ing birth to her child, — a misfortune which 
not only fell heavily on her husband, but was 
one of the main causes of the expulsion of the 
English from France. 

xl. The alliance between the Duke of Bur- 
gundy and the English party had been in a 



144 JOHN DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

great measure cemented bj the influence of 
the Duchess of Bedford, and from the hour 
of her decease it began to diminish in sin- 
cerity. A second blow to its stability was 
dealt by the hasty marriage of the widower- 
Duke with the daughter of the Comte de St. 
Paul, (one of the heads of the House of Lux- 
emburg) — a marriage which was deeply re- 
sented by the Burgundians. But while these 
sources of dissension were opening up fresh 
troubles for France and England, war never 
halted on its bloody and destructive path ; and 
every day was marked by the capture of some 
unhappy town, or the defeat ot some small 
detachment of ignorant partizans. 

xli. Early in 1435 the Duke of Bedford 
determined upon the siege of Lagny-sur- 
Marne, one of the strongholds of the French 
king. He invested it in a very scientific 
manner, and drew around it a cordon so strict 
that its inhabitants were soon reduced to the 
extremity of famine. The celebrated Dunois, 
whose name yet lives in a popular French 
chanson, collected what forces he could, and 
hastened to its relief. Eager to bring on a de- 
cisive engagement, the Duke threw out all his 
forces in battle order, and suffered Dunois to 



THE regent's illness. 145 

occupy him with a succession of skirmishes, 
while a supply of provisions and ammunition 
was conveyed into the beleaguered town. 
Having attained his object, Dunois quietly 
withdrew his forces, leaving the Eegent to 
digest as best he might his mortification at 
having been so grossly deceived. 

xlii. The Duke felt so deeply the check 
he had received, that he was seized with a 
severe illness. But action was imperatively 
necessary, and drawing off his army from 
Langy, he marched to Paris which was 
threatened by the French King's forces. 
Talbot, the great Earl of Shrewsbury, now ar- 
rived from England with a large body of 
fresh troops, and for a time victory once more 
shone upon the banners of England. But it 
was evident that the great English prince 
was failing fast. For years he had supported 
an intolerable burden, and his weakened frame 
could no longer endure the activity of his 
ardent intellect. He looked around, and saw 
disasters menacing him on every side, for the 
small armies of the English, though always 
successful in the open field, could not keep 
down a strong and turbulent nation, which 

VOL. I. H 



146 JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD. 

longed to be independent. The defection of 
the Duke of Burgundy was an accession to 
the French King, whose consequences the 
Eegent foresaw, though he could not pre- 
vent ; and it fell, a death stroke, upon his 
enfeebled heart. The ablest of the sons of 
Henry IV., the man who might, perhaps, had 
he lived, have saved the English throne from 
the grasp of the house of York, — expired at 
Eouen, after a protracted illness, on the 14th 
of September, 1435, in the 43rd year of his 
age. Both as a captain and a statesman, John 
Plantagenet, Duke of Bedford, deserves to be 
placed among the most illustrious of our 
English Worthies. 



CHAPTEE III. 



PRINCE EDWARD OF LANCASTER, SON OF 
HENRY VI. 



1. Shadows.— 2. The White and Red Roses.— 3. A Recon- 
ciliation. — 4. TEWg:ESBUKY. 



[Authorities. — Hall's, Holinshed's, and Grafton's Chronicles ; 
Houses of York and Lancaster, by Miss Roberts ; Rapin's and 
Lingard's Histories ; Strickland's Queens of England ; Dugdale's 
Baronage ; Leland's Collectanea ; Habington's Edward lY. ; His- 
toric of the Arrivall of Edward lY. ; Memoires par 1' Abbe 
Prevost; Bucke's Richard III.; Walpole's Historic Doubts, etc.] 



H 2 



CHAPTER III. 



EDWARD OF LANCASTER, SON OF HENRY VI. 



All about him, in aspect and mien, seemed to betoken a mind 
riper than his years, a masculine simplicity of taste and bearing, 
the earnest and grave temperament, mostly allied, in youth, to 
pure and elevated desires, to an honourable and chivalric soul. 

BULWER Lyttok. 



SHADOWS. 

i. The inauspicious union of Henry the 
VI., of England, with the "lion-hearted" 
Margaret of Anjou, gave birth to a prince of 
evil fortunes but noble spirit, Edward, sur- 
named from the place of his nativity, Edward 
of Westminster. He was born in the royal 
palace, on the 13th of October, 1453, and 
from the hour of his birth to the moment of 
his violent and premature death, cloud and 
shadow, as fatal as ever brooded over the 
hero of a Greek tragedy, gathered around his 



150 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

path, and obscured his brief career. His life 
was, so to speak, a weird and sorrowful ro- 
mance, in which the most dazzling heights 
contrast with the gloomiest depths, and the 
occasional fitful flashes of sunshine serve but 
to show the depth of the prevailing darkness. 
The ballad poets of the day found in his short 
eventful history abundant themes for their 
fertile lyres. The palace and the prison, 
forest-glade and battle-field, the love-tryst and 
the council of state, the sorrows of exile and 
the sweet pleasures of innocent affection, 
supplied them with those bold and striking 
contrasts which most easily seize on the 
popular imagination. And the folk-songs of 
the North, and its cherished traditions, pre- 
served — up to a very recent period — the re- 
membrance of the loves and misfortunes of 
Edward of Westminster. 

ii. The marriage of Henry the VI. with 
Margaret, the beautiful daughter of Rene, the 
Troubadour King of Sicily and Jerusalem, 
and Duke of Anjou, Maine, and Bar, was 
solemnized in the gray old Abbey of Tich- 
field, on the 22nd of April, 1445. The nego- 
tiations which led to this result — a result 
never popular with the English — had been 



A POPULAR CALUMNY. 151 

carried out by tlie Earl of Suffolk, who, im- 
mediately after the marriage, was raised to a 
marquisate, and distinguished by the peculiar 
favour of the able but imperious Margaret. 
In 1447 he was elevated to a dukedom. 
These sudden honours, and the influence he 
enjoyed in the queen's court, originated re- 
ports most injurious to her character, and it 
was popularly believed that there existed 
between them a criminal connection. 

iii. The miserable fate which eventuallv 
befel Suffolk, after a protracted struggle 
against his powerful enemies, is well-known to 
the readers of ^English history and to those 
conversant with the Shakspearean drama. 
He was beheaded at sea, on the 2nd of May, 
1450, but even after his death the popular 
prejudice against Margaret did not subside, 
and her reputation was still the sport of 
ribald tongues. The birth of Prince Edward 
(October 13, 1453), therefore, did not pass 
unchallenged, and Pierre de Breze was reputed 
to be the favoured lover. During the sangui- 
nary war of the Houses of York and Lancas- 
ter, which, for so many years, flooded the green 
sward of England with blood, the supposed 
illegitimacy of Margaret's son was a principal 



152 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

obstacle to the success of the cause of the 
Red Eose. 

iv. Still further to deepen the darkness 
which attended his birth, as if ominous of 
his future fate, it occurred at the period of 
the swift decadence of English power in 
France. Normandy and Guienne had been 
wrested from our grasp ; Bordeaux, which, 
for three centuries and a half, had been sub- 
ject to our government, surrendered to the 
French king on the 10th of October, 1453 — 
only three days before the prince was born ; 
and of all the vast continental possessions 
which England had formerly enjoyed, and 
which attested the genius of the Plantagenets 
and the heroism of their soldiers, Calais alone 
remained. What wonder, then, that from the 
very heart of the people rose indignant mur- 
murs of shame, contempt, and execration ? 

V. The national discontent was equalled by 
the national suffering. A series of bloody 
and unsuccessful campaigns had exhausted 
the treasury, and compelled the king's 
councillors to raise taxation to an intolerable 
pitch of oppression, while the government 
was administered with a reckless disregard of 
the rights and privileges of the people. The 



A CLOUDY HORIZON. 153 

king was subject to occasional fits of imbe- 
cility. The Queen was regarded with, 
mingled feelings of scorn and hate. Among 
the great barons, who still overshadowed the 
throne with their insolent power, prevailed a 
thousand enmities, while they were rapidly 
gathering themselves into the two hostile 
camps of York and Lancaster, according as 
they were influenced by personal prejudice or 
lust of place and wealth. Drear, indeed, was 
the aspect of the political horizon ; lurid with 
clouds and heavy with coming storms ; on 
that St. Edward's day which, after nine years 
of a barren marriage-bed, gave a son to 
Henry the 6th and Margaret of Anjou. 

vi. He was named Edward because the 
name was popular in England as that of the 
Confessor, of Edward, " malleus Scotorum ;" 
Edward, the " greatest of the Plantagenets ;'' 
and Edward, the hero of Cre§y and Poitiers ; 
and he was christened with as much pomp 
and luxurious state as if the fortunes of the 
empire had been, at this epoch, of unusual 
brightness. His mantle cost no less a sum 
than £554 16s. 8d., equal to seven or eight 
thousand pounds of our present money. The 

H 5 



154: EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

grand old Abbej-churcli of Westminster was 
filled with the soft lustre of tall wax tapers ; 
the space round the baptismal font was cov- 
ered with glittering cloth of gold. Waynflete, 
Bishop of Winchester, was the officiating pre- 
late ; the sponsors were Cardinal Kemp, Abp. 
of Canterbury, the Duke of Somerset, and 
the Duchess of Buckingham. In the even- 
ing high revelry filled the halls and chambers 
of the palace, though the royal father of the 
princely babe in whose honour these sump- 
tuous festivities were celebrated, pined, in the 
sad retirement of a vacant mind, within the 
stately halls of Windsor. But the partisans 
of the Duke of York — who claimed the heir- 
ship to the throne as lineal representative of 
Lionel, Duke of Clarence, third son of Eiward 
the 3rd— did not fail to vvhisper that though 
the king was absent from the christening rite 
and the palace revel, the father of Margaret's 
infant not the less was present. Historians, 
however, are of opinion that the calumny 
was altogether groundless. 

vii. Several weeks passed by, and still the 
unfortunate Henry remained at Windsor, 
blind to the sights — deaf to the sounds- — of 
the outer world, and utterly unable to un- 



AN UNHAPPY FATHER. 155 

derstand that lie was a father. But early in 
the spring of 1454, it was considered advis- 
able an effort should be made to rouse King 
Henry from the mental lethargy of which, 
for so many months, he had been the victim, 
and it was supposed that the sight of his in- 
fant child might stimulate his deadened 
faculties. The youthful Edward, resting in 
the arms of the Duke of Buckingham, was ac- 
cordingly carried into the royal chamber. 
But Henry looked upon him with incurious 
eye. The Duke entreated him to bestow a 
glance, a smile, a word of blessing on the 
babe, but the king still remained blank and 
unconscious ; his intellect so dead, his heart 
so numbed that that mysterious parental feel- 
ing which even the most worldly and 
ambitious have acknowledged, could shed no 
passing sunshine on his sorrowful life. The 
Queen, in all her proud motherly beauty, 
then took her son in her arms, and essayed to 
recal her husband's distraught brain; but 
neither the familar music of her voice, nor 
the glow and flush of her queenly loveliness, 
could arouse him from his torpor. 

viii. No improvement in the King's state 
took place until the blessed Christmas-time 



156 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

arrived. But upon tliat great Cliristlan festi- 
val tlie light of reason once more flashed 
across his melancholy darkness. In pious 
gratitude for the tokens of his recovery, he 
immediately sent rich offerings to the shrine 
of St. Thomas, at Canterbury, and St. Edward 
the Confessor's, at Westminster. The glad 
news soon reached Queen Margaret's ears, 
and clasping her child, now a rosy and pro- 
mising babe of some fifteen months old, to 
her bosom, she hastened into the King's 
chamber, to find herself recognised, and to 
witness the father s natural emotions at the 
sight of his first-born. He inquired his name, 
and when he heard that it was Edward — the 
name of the Saint to whom he especially 
prayed — he threw up his arms in joy, and 
reverently thanked the Lord. And he said 
that he "" never knew till that time, nor wist 
not what was said to him, nor wist not where 
he had been, whiles he had been sick, till 
now." And he asked who were godfathers, and 
the Queen told him, and he was well content.'-'' 
ix. During the King's illness, Richard, 
Duke of York had acted as his '' Protector 
and Defender," an office which Parliament 

* The Pas ton Letters. 



WARS OF THE EOSES. 157 

entrusted to him " during the King's plea- 
sure, or till such time as Edward the Prince 
should come to years of discretion." And 
with the consent of both peers and commons, 
Edward the Prince was created Prince of 
Wales, and endowed with suitable revenues 
to maintain his state. The gold ring, and 
the silver rod, and the coronet were presented 
to the infant Prince at Windsor, on Pentecost 
Sunday (June 9, 1454), in the Presence of the 
Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Salisbury, 
the Queen, many lords of estate and ladies of 
high degree. 

X. The fatal Wars of the Eoses broke out 
when Edward was scarcely two years old ; 
the first blood being shed on the field of St. 
Albans, in 1455. From that date until Ed- 
ward's death, some sixteen years later, Eng- 
land was convulsed with intestine commotions, 
and alternately groaned under the dear- 
bought supremacy of York or Lancaster. 
Twelve terrible battles marked those sixteen 
years, and not a noble house in England but 
lost its best and bravest in the long-enduring 
struggle. The powerful Baronage which 
originated in Norman feudalism was utterly 
broken and bowed down, shorn of its privi- 



158 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

leges, and deprived of most of its lustre ; and 
that influence which at one time could over- 
ride the despotism of Kings became but a 
phantom — but a shade, which the royal 
breath could dissolve at will. From the 
wreck of the ancient orders sprung the new 
government, Crown and Commons; the Crown 
at first all-mastering and arbitrary, until the 
" middle class'' — the townsmen and burghers, 
traders and artizans — learned to estimate 
aright their own importance, to assert their 
privileges, and control the power of the throne, 
while yielding a due respect to its constitu- 
tional prerogatives. Thus, the blood poured 
out at Towton and Tewkesbury served but to 
nourish that noble tree which was planted at 
Eunnymeade, and whose green and vigorous 
branches now overshadow two-thirds of the 
world. 

xi. The vast historical canvass covered by 
the Wars of the Eoses demands from the 
earnest student of English history the closest 
and most sedulous examination. As the vivid 
panorama unrolls before his eyes, upon what 
stirring scenes he gazes — what illustrious 
figures stand conspicuous among the shadows 
of the past ! The meek and gentle Henry, 



THE ACTOES IN A GEEAT DEAMA. 159 

whose narrow intellect was mated with a 
tender and compassionate heart ; the proud 
and lofty Margaret — ruthless, imperious, un- 
bending — with all the majestic beauty and 
fierce courage of a lioness, and all the devo- 
tion of a lioness to her young ; Richard of 
York, a bold and haughty spirit ; the chival- 
rous Salisbury ; the fourth Edward, sleek as 
a tiger, and of as splendid a port — crafty, per- 
suasive, fearless — with a brain as large as his 
arm was strong; Eichard of Gloucester, the 
subtlest of princes and bravest of soldiers ; 
the mighty Warwick, " king-maker" and hero, 
— the type of the great English Baron, in his 
courage, his generosity, his influence over the 
people, his broad military capacity, and his 
boundless ambition ; Clifford, " hard-hearted 
Clifford ;" the able and aspiring Montague ; 
Lady Anne, the fair, sweet daughter of the 
rugged Warwick ; Elizabeth Woodville, that 
crafty beauty, whose studied virtue won a 
king's hand as its regal prize ; the " fro ward 
Clarence ;'' and Oxford, " wondrous well- 
beloved;" and many another brave knight, 
and proud peer, and lovely lady, whose names 
live in the dark scroll of our English history, 
and the immortal pages of the Shakspearean 



160 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

drama ! In such a glittering and imposing 
throng one almost loses sight of the graceful 
figure and handsome countenance of Edward 
of Westminster — Prince of "Wales, but never 
King of England — the youthful lover of Anne 
of Warwick, the gallant soldier on Tewkes- 
bury's fatal field, the victim of the treacherous 
daggers of King Edward's counsellors, whose 
life, as we have said, possesses all the interest 
of a strange and melancholy romance, scarcely 
to be read aright amid the legends and tra- 
ditions in which the popular fancy has in- 
volved it. One takes but little heed of the 
love-making youth, bold as was his heart, and 
frank his spirit, when the air is trembling with 
martial music, and into the front rank of the 
limes press the plumed helms of warriors, and 
the purple robes of statesmen ! 

xii. Upon Henry's recovery, and consequent 
resumption of the regal authority, Richard of 
York perforce yielded up his Protectorate, and 
as his great enemy, Somerset, was recalled to 
the royal councils, retired for security to his 
castle of Ludlow. But having once tasted 
power, which, like an alcoholic draught, does 
but stimulate the appetite to crave excess, he 
was unable now to content himself with an 



THE TWO HOUSES. 161 

inactive and inglorious leisure. He summoned 
his numerous adherents to his stronghold ; he 
welcomed thither the disaffected and the ad- 
venturous, to whom change is always plea- 
sant, and mostly profitable ; his cause he knew 
to be popular with a large body of the people, 
and many of the most potent barons had es- 
poused it — Warwick, and Norfolk, and 
Salisbury. And it must be admitted that, 
according to every principle of legitimacy, his 
title to the throne was incontestable. The 
Lancastrian line occupied the throne by virtue 
of a parliamentary recognition, and the volun- 
tary obedience of the nation to Henry IV. 
and his son ; but that was an age when the 
cause of legitimacy was still sacred in the 
eyes of nations, and kings reigned " by the 
grace of God," rather than " the will of the 
people.'' 

xiii. While Eichard of York and his fol- 
lowers were ostentatiously arming, the sup- 
porters of the house of Lancaster were by no 
means supine. Somerset and Northumberland, 
Clifford and Sudeley, rapidly drew together 
their different levies, and to obstruct the 
Yorkists, if they meditated a sudden march 
upon London, concentrated them at St. 



162 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

Alban's, thoiigli only numbering 2,000 men 
(May 23, 1455). At the Eoman Verulamlum, 
the British city which a martyr's memory 
consecrated, was destined to open that long 
and terrible struggle which English history 
recognises as the Wars of the Roses. 

II. 

THE WHITE AND RED ROSES. 

1. The Duke of York, on his arrival before 
St. Albans, at once demanded that his great 
enemy, the Duke of Somerset, should be given 
into his hands ; but answer was made, as in 
the sovereign's name, that the king would 
protect his friend and servant. Thereupon 
the Yorkist Captain directed an Immediate 
assault. The battle raged through the reek- 
ing streets for several hours. Somerset was 
slain ; Henry VI. himself was slightly, 
wounded and taken prisoner ; and the 
Yorkists, who were superior in numbers, 
gained a complete victory. 

" Now, by my faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day : 
Saint Alban's battle, won by famous York, 
Shall be etemis'd in all age to come." 

Shaksfeabe. 



A ROYAL PROGRESS, 163 

ii. The Duke of York was now restored to 
the Protectorate, and virtually ruled the king- 
dom under the nominal sovereignty of the 
unfortunate Henry. Parliament, however, 
interfered on behalf of Henry's son ; recog- 
nised his rights as Prince of Wales ; and, for 
the support of his household and wardrobe, 
granted him an annual revenue of 10,000 
marks, until he was eight years old, and 
20,000 from the age of twelve to fourteen. 
His diet and lodging were provided in the 
royal palaces, where, at Hertford and Green- 
wich, he mainly resided, during the five years 
of hollow peace which succeeded the bloody 
field of St. Albans. One royal progress, 
however, he made with the king and queen, 
in the merry summer-time of 1457, visiting 
the Lancastrian stronghold of Warwickshire, 
and the notably loyal city of Coventry. 

iii. A peace between two opposite ambi- 
tions is seldom better than an armed truce. 
York grew tired of his enforced moderation, 
and Margaret of her gilded servitude. The 
dissensions between the two parties ripened 
apace, and in 1459, broke out into open hosti- 
lity. The Earl of Salisbury was now the 
first actor in the dreadful drama. Though of 



164 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

a gray old age, his soul burned with the fierce 
ardour of his martial youth — 

"And like rich hangings in a homely house, 
So was his will in his old feeble body." 

iv. Henry was residing at Coleshill, in 
Warwickshire, when the second battle of the 
Eoses was fought at Blore Heath. The queen, 
worthier of the crown than her patient hus- 
band, was a spectatress of the fight, which 
terminated disastrously for her hopes; her 
general Audley receiving a severe defeat at 
the hands of the Earl of Salisbury (Septem- 
ber 13, 1459). She witnessed the advance 
and the struggle, the rush and the defeat, 
from the battlements of Macclestone church- 
tower, and when the fight was lost, hastened 
to join her son at Eccleshall Castle. Henry 
was compelled to remove from his quiet 
seclusion at Coleshill, and listlessly asked of 
his attendants, " Which side has gained the 
day?" 

V. The Yorkists next underwent a discom- 
fiture, being completely routed at Ludlow, 
and the Duke was compelled to fly to Dublin 
for shelter ; Warwick escaped to Calais, of 
which he was governor, and received there 



THE WHITE EOSE, 165 

his father, the aged Salisbury, and young 
Edward of March (afterwards Edward IV.). 

vi. Now, indeed, the Lancastrians made 
merry, and bills of attainder were hurried 
through Parliament in punishment of the dis- 
comfited Yorkists. Margaret bore herself 
with her wonted regal pride, and Henry with 
his characteristic but unkingly meekness, until 
the terrible news broke upon the revellers, 
that Warwick, and Salisbury, and Edward of 
March, were again upon English land. At 
this time the sympathies of the majority of 
the people were undoubtedly with the White 
Rose. All Kent received the invaders with a 
hearty welcome. Yorkist London threw 
open its gates, and bade them enter, and 
sheltered them, while armed men by scores 
and hundreds rallied to their standards. Then 
the Yorkist leaders issued forth, and swept 
across the country northward, until they faced 
the battle-array of the Lancastrians at North- 
ampton (July, 1460). The fight was a terri- 
ble one. The army of the Eed Eose was led 
by the Duke of Buckingham, and the lion- 
hearted Margaret herself, and the young 
Prince of Wales looked upon the contested 
field fi:om a secure distance. For two hot 



166 EDWAED OF LANCASTER. 

hours, from seven to nine in the morning, the 
battle lasted, and then the Lancastrian army- 
broke and fled. Buckingham was slain, and 
the king, musing in his tent, taken prisoner. 
The queen and the prince took horse, when 
the fight went against them, and rode for dear 
life to Durham, whence thej removed to 
Eccleshall, and Chester, on their waj to 
Harlech Castle, in Wales, Thej were fol- 
lowed but by eight attendants, and on their 
road from Chester were stopped bj a troop of 
robbers — the Queen and young Edward 
escaping from their hands, while the robbers 
quarrelled over their plunder, said to have 
been of the value of 10,000 marks. 

vii. Meanwhile, in a great Parliament 
holden in London, the Duke of York boldly 
asserted his claim to the throne of England. 
Hall, the chronicler, sketches this famous 
scene with graphic simplicity. 

" During this trouble, '^ he says, " was a 
parliament summoned to begin at Westmin- 
ster in the month of October next following. 
Before which time, Eichard Duke of York, 
being in Ireland, by swift couriers and flying 
posts, was advertised of the great victory 
gained by his party at the field of Northamp- 



THE duke's oration. 167 

ton, and also knew tliat the King was now in 
case to be kept and ordered at his pleasure 
and will ; wherefore, losing no time, nor 
slugging one hour, he sailed from Develine 
to Chester with no small company, and bj 
long journeys came to the city of London, 
which he entered the Friday next before the 
feast of St. Edward the Confessor, with a 
sword borne naked before him, and took his 
lodging in the King's own palace, whereupon 
the common people babbled that he should be 
king, and that King Henry should no longer 
reign. During the time of this Parliament, 
the Duke of York, with a bold countenance, 
entered into the chamber of the peers, and sat 
down in the throne royal, under the cloth of 
estate (which is the King's peculiar seat), and 
in the presence as well of the nobility as of 
the spirituality (after a pause made) said these 

words in effect 

'' When the Duke had ended his oration, 
the lords sat still like images graven in the 
wall, or dumb gods, neither whispering nor 
speaking, as though their mouths had been 
sowed up. The Duke, perceiving non^ answer 
to be made to his declared purpose, not well 
content with their sober silence and tacitur- 



168 EDWAED OF LANCASTER. 

nity, advised them well to digest and ponder 
the effect of his oration and saying, and so, 
neither fully displeased nor all pleased, de- 
parted to his lodging in the King's palace/' 

viii. These proceedings resulted in an 
agreement similar to that which Stephen con- 
cluded with Henry 11. 

" After long arguments made, and deliber- 
ate consultation had, among the peers, prelates, 
and commoners of the realm, upon the vigil 
of All Saints it was condescended and agreed 
by the three estates, for so much as King 
Henry had been taken as King, by the space 
of thirty-eight years and more, that he should 
enjoy the name and title of Kiig, and have 
possession of the realm, during his life natural; 
and if he either died or resigned, or forfeited 
the same for infringing any point of this con- 
cord, then the said crown and authority royal 
should immediately be divoluted to the Duke 
of York, if he then lived, or else to the next 
heir of his line and lineage, and that the Duke 
from henceforth should be protector and 
Eegent of the land. Provided always, that 
if the King did closely or apertly study or go 
about to break or alter this agreement, or to 
compass or imagine the death or destruction 



THE HEIR APPARENT. 169 

of the said Duke or his blood, then he to for- 
feit the crown, and the Duke of York to take 
it. These articles, with many other, were not 
only written, sealed, and sworn by the two 
parties, but also were enacted in the high 
court of Parliament. For joy whereof, the 
King, having in his company the said Duke, 
rode to the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, 
within the city of St. Paul, within the city of 
London ; and there, on the day of All Saints, 
went solemnly, with the diadem on his head, 
in procession, and was lodged a good grace 
after in the Bishop's palace, nea.r to the said 
church. And upon the Saturday next ensu- 
ing^ Eichard, Duke of York, was, by the 
sound of a trumpet, solemnly proclaimed heir 
apparent to the ci:own of England, and pro- 
tector of the realm." 

ix. Not only was the Lancastrian Prince of 
Wales thus quietly denied his heirship to the 
English crown, but even his princedom was 
attempted to be taken from him. The Yorkist 
Parliament, not content with acknowledging 
as the true heir the Duke of York, Eichard 
Plantagenet, was fain also to recognise him 
as Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, and 

VOL. I. I 



170 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

Earl of Chester, — so that there were two suns 
in the heaven, two contemporary successors 
to the honours worn so worthily by the Black 
Prince. This singular Parliamentary action 
took place on the 31st of October, 1460. 

X. But tne Lioness of Anjou was already 
earnest in upholding the claims of her hus- 
band and her son. She was the very soul of 
the Lancastrian cause, and wherever her regal 
presence shone the hearts of her adherents 
were animated, their hopes re-kindled, their 
loyalty stimulated with enthusiasm. For the 
enthusiasm of a bold and resolute mind is 
contagious ; it evokes into life the latent 
germs of the dullest soil, and from point to 
point the quick flame flies, lighting up every- 
where a sudden and irresistible fire. 

xi. From Harlech she had removed with 
her travel-worn son to Scotland, where at the 
Monastery of Leailooden, near Dumfries, she 
was received by the Scottish queen — her 
namesake — and entertained in a right royal 
manner. The Scots were never unwilling to 
meddle in the embarrassments of the southern 
kingdom, and Margaret was supplied with 
men, and arms, and money to assist her in 
the prosecution of her husband's cause. Soon 



A hero's death. 171 

she crossed the Tweed, gathering strength as 
her battle rolled onwards^ and planging into 
the heart of Yorkshire, she faced her foe at 
Sandal Castle. York, unable to stem her ad- 
vance, withdrew his forces into the neighbour- 
ing town of Wakefield, and sheltered bj its 
walls prepared to withstand an attack. But 
his bold spirit speedily chafed at the inaction, 
and he resolved upon sallying out against the 
Lancastrian army. 

xii. Hall tells us, that " the Duke of York 
with his people descended down in good order 
and array, and were suffered to pass forward 
towards the main battle : but when he was in 
the plain ground between his castle and the 
town of Wakefield, he was environed on every 
side, like a fish m a net, or a deer in a buck- 
stall : so that he, manfully fighting, was with- 
in half-an-hour slain and dead, and his whole 
army discomfited ; and with him died of his 
trusty friends, his two bastard uncles. Sir 
John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, Sir David Hall, 
his chief councillor. Sir Hugh Hastings, Sir 
Thomas Neville, William and Thomas Aparre, 
both brethren, and two thousand and eight 
hundred others, whereof many were young 

I 2 



172 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

gentlemen and heirs of great parentage in the 
south part, whose lineages revenged their 
deaths within four months next and imme- 
diately ensuing. . . . Whilst this battle 
was in fighting, a priest called Sir Robert 
Aspell, chaplain and schoolmaster to the 
joung Earl of Rutland, second son to the 
above-named Duke of York, scarce of the age 
of seven years, a fair gentleman and a maiden- 
like person, perceiving that flight was more 
safeguard than tarrying, both for him and his 
master, secretly conveyed the earl out of the 
field, by the Lord Clifford's band, towards the 
town ; but ere he could enter a house he was 
by the said Lord ClifFord espied, followed, 
and taken, and by reason of his apparel de- 
manded what he was. The young gentleman 
dismayed had not a word to speak, but kneeled 
on his knees imploring mercy, and desiring 
grace, both with holding up his hands and 
making dolorous countenance, for his speech 
was gone for fear. ' Save him,' said his 
chaplain, 'for he is a prince's son, and per- 
adventure may do you good hereafter.' With 
that word the Lord Clifford marked him, and 
said, ' By God's blood, thy father slew mine, 
and so will I do thee and all thy kin !' and 



Clifford's cruelty. 173 

with that word struck the earl to the heart 
with his dagger, and bade his chaplain bear 
the earl's mother and brother word what he 
had done and said. In this act the Lord Clifford 
was accompted a tyrant, and no gentleman/' 
xiii. The Duke of York was treated with 
a shameful barbarity. " This cruel Clifford," 
continues the chronicler, '^ and deadly blood- 
supper, not content with this homicide, or 
child-killing, came to the place where the 
dead corpse of the Duke of York lay, and 
caused his head to be stricken off and set on 
it a crown of paper, and so fixed it on a pole 
and presented it to the Qaeen, not lying far from 
the field, in great despite and much derision, 
saying, ' Madam, your war is done, here is 
your king's ransom,' at which present was 
much joy and great rejoicing. But many 
laughed then that sore lamented after, as the 
Queen herself and her son ; and many were 
glad then of other men's deaths, not knowing 
that their own were near at hand, as the Lord 
Clifford, and others. But surely man's na- 
ture is so frail, that things passed be soon for- 
gotten, and mischief s to come be not foreseen.""^ 

* Holinshed gives a different account of the Duke's death. "Some 
write," he says, "that the duke was taken alive, and in derision 



174 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

xiv. The triumph of the Lancastrians which 
was thus cruelly celebrated was not fated to 
be of long duration. It was an act of impolicy 
for Margaret and her partisans to murder the 
Duke of York. His death raised them up a 
bitterer, a more ruthless, and an abler foe in 
his son — the Borgia of English History — the 
lustful, sanguinary, but brilliant Edward the 
Fourth. Instant and ample vengeance he 
took for his father's murder, when on Can- 
dlemas Day he defeated a large body of 
Lancastrians, at Mortimer s Heath ; his 
greed of blood seemed insatiable, and even 
after the battle he disdained to sheathe his 
"hungry sword.'' Unhappily the Wars of 
the Eoses were throughout conducted in this 
spirit of accursed cruelty ; and it may be re- 
marked that the wars which have broken out 
between two factions of the same nation, or 
two divisions of the same empire, have always 



caused to stand upon a molehill, on whose head they put a garland 
instead of a crown, which they had fashioned and made of sedges or 
bulrushes, and having so crowned him with that garland they 
kneeled down before him, as the Jews did to Christ, in scorn, saying 
to him, ' Hail, king without rule! hail, king without heritage ! hail, 
duke and prince without people or possessions,' and at length, having 
thus scorned him with these and divers others the like despiteful 
words, they struck off his head, which they presented to the Queen." 
Holin shed's version has been followed by Shakspeare, in his 3rd part 
of" Henry VI." 



CIVIL WAR. 175 

been bloodier and more ferocious than those 
waged between alien races or peoples. The 
very nearness of blood and claims of kinship 
serve to embitter the strife. It is as if each 
felt that the other could never forgive, and 
never ask for forgiveness. No hatred so 
deadly as that which was formerly love. 
And so, through a storm of fire and a sea of 
blood, must the twain press onward to a far- 
off peace. 

" Implacable resentment was their crime, 
And grievous has the expiation been." 

XV. While the fortunes of the Eed Rose 
were thus overclouded in the north, thf queen 
herself, on her southward progress, met with 
a fairer fate. At St. Albans — for the second 
time the scene of an unnatural conflict — a 
terrible battle was fought on Shrove Tuesday, 
A.D. 1460, between the Queen's forces and 
a Yorkist army under the great Earl of War- 
wick. At first Warwick's bowmen drove the 
Lancastrians hard, but soon they rallied to 
the counter charge, and fought so gallantly 
as to compel the future King-Maker to re- 
treat. The young Prince Edward is said to 
have fleshed his maiden sword on this oc- 



176 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

casion, and to have borne himself as became 
the grandson of Henry of Monmouth. 

xvl. Wben the victory was secure, the 
Queen and her gallant son, and an exultant 
train of knights and nobles repaired to the tent 
where Henry VI. had been detained a prisoner. 
Bold Margaret's heart beat fast when she 
gazed upon her gentle husband, and presented 
to him their soldier son, whom she caused the 
king to reward with the honour of knight- 
hood. And a similar guerdon was bestowed 
upon thirty of the bravest of her son's de- 
fenders. 

xvii. From the well-foughten field the 
royal c^ompany passed into the Abbey of St. 
Albans, where a solemn thanksgiving for 
their victory was duly celebrated. The mor- 
row was marked by the execution of several 
of the leading Yorkists, for neither womanly 
feeling nor policy could temper Margaret of 
Anjou's revengeful spirit. And then the 
victors moved towards London, endeavouring 
to bribe the citizens, whose sagacious minds 
had long ag\) discerned what good to them 
might flow from the success of York, and 
what evil from the triumph of Lancaster, into 
favouring their pretensions. But the gates of 



EDWARD THE FOUETH. 177 

the metropolis were barred against their en- 
trance, and as London citizens in those feudal 
days could wield both sword and pike, or plj 
the clothyard shaft, with a skill and a courage 
not to be denied, the Eed Eose was com- 
pelled to droop its head in shame and sorrow, 
and the royalists made what haste they could 
to shelter themselves in the northern counties, 
xviii. Then sprang the fortunes of the 
White Eose out of their temporary decadence, 
and on the 4th of March, 1461, Edward of 
York " entered into Westminster Church, 
under a canopy, with solemn procession,^' 
and was formally declared King of England, 
under the name and with the title of Edward 
IV. London welcomed his accession with an 
unmistakeable enthusiasm; and the great 
majority of the nation were undoubtedly sup- 
porters of his cause. He was one of the 
handsomest men of his time ; his address was 
winning, his manner princely; his courage 
and capacity in the field even his enemies 
acknowledged ; and, as yet, the darker shades 
of his character had not been developed by 
success, nor his passions rendered uncon- 
trolable by indulgence. Such a king was 

I 5 



178 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

born to be popular, for tlie people are never 
severe critics nor discriminating judges, and 
love to see the brilliancy, and dash^ and full- 
bloodedness of power. Opposed to him was 
a King who constantly pattered his prayers 
and counted his beads — a phantom of royalty 
— a pale, meek, monkish suppliant. Opposed 
to him was a Queen of bold heart and 
splendid beauty, but of harsh, imperious, 
ruthless spirit, who never --from the hour of 
her ill-omened nuptials to that of her miserable 
death — was esteemed or respected by the 
people she strove to rule.* The young Prince 
of Wales, indeed, was distinguished by many 
graces of mind and person ; but his youth 
and the stormy events of his early years had 
estranged him from his countrymen. No 
marvel, therefore, that Edward of York 
stood forth, in the stirring drama of the time, 
as the favourite and most conspicuous actor. 

xix. And further — to adopt the language 
of Bulwer Lytton — " it cannot be too empha- 
tically repeated, that the accession of Edward 
IV. was the success of two new and highly 
popular principles — the one, that of church 

* ''Margaret commanded awe, but she scarcely permitted love 
from an inferior ; and tliougli gracious and well governed when she so 
pleased, it was but to those she vsrished to win." — Bulwee Lytton. 



TWO PRINCIPLES AT WORK. 179 

reform, the other, that of commercial calcu- 
lation. All that immense section, almost a 
majority of the people, who had been per- 
secuted by the Lancastrian Kings as Lollards, 
revenged on Henry the aggrieved rights of 
religious toleration. On the other hand, 
though Henry IV., who was immeasurably 
superior to his warlike son in intellect and 
statemanship, had favoured the growing com- 
mercial spirit, it had received nothing but 
injury under Henry V., and little better tban 
contempt under Henry VI. The accession of 
the Yorkists was, then, on two grounds, a 
great popular movement ; and it was followed 
by a third advantage to the popular cause 
— namely, in the determined desire both of 
Edward and Richard HI. to destroy the dan- 
gerous influence of the old feudal aristoc- 
racy." 

XX. Edward's assumption of the regal 
power, however, was immediately contested 
by the Lancastrians, and a great force was 
assembled near York, where the royal couple 
and their son were residing, and with the 
view of once more trying the fortune of 
battle. Edward was equally prompt in his 
movements. Gathering what troops he 



180 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

could, and joined by a powerful levj under 
the great Earl of Warwick, he rapidly marched 
northward, and came up with the Lancastrian 
forces at Towton, in Yorkshire, on Palm 
Sunday (March 29, 1461). No battle on 
English ground was ever more stoutly con- 
tested ! It was fought for ten dreary hours, 
in a storm of wind, and snow, and mist, with 
signal ferocity on both sides. Edward was 
seen in the thickest of the press ; Warwick 
rode from point to point, encouraging his 
soldiery, and daunting the enemy by his 
death- deal ino; blows. Yet througrhout the 
long and fatal day the victory seemed to 
waver. " The one party, ^' writes the old 
chronicler, '' some time flowing, and some 
time ebbing — but, in conclusion, King 
Edward so courageously comforted his men, 
refreshing the weary and helping the wounded, 
that the other party was discomfited and 
overcome, and, like men amazed, fled towards 
Tadcaster Bridge to save themselves ; but, in 
the raid way, there is a little brook called 
Cock, not very broad, but of a great deepness, 
in the which, what for haste of escaping, and 
what for fear of followers, a great number 
were drent and drowned, insomuch that the 



THE FIELD OF TOWTON. 181 

common people there affirm, that rnen alive 
passed the river upon dead carcases, and that 
the great river of Wharfe, which is the great 
sewer of the brook, and of all the water com- 
ing from Tow ton, was coloured with blood.'' In 
this battle fell, it is said, no less than 36,760 
slain — the total of combatants on both sides 
being estimated bj the best authorities at 
110,000. The carnage was, therefore, greater 
than at Waterloo, Magenta, or Solferino. 
Among the killed was the " butcher" Clifford, 
who thus expiated his foul murder of the 
youthful Earl of Eutland. 

xxi. The victory of Towton was decisive. 
From York the royal fugitives fled to Alnwick, 
the castle of the Lord of Northumberland, and 
from thence, on the approach of the resistless 
Yorkists, across the border, and into the 
Scottish lowlands, until they found a tempo- 
rary refuge at Kirkcudbright. Here the un- 
conquerable Queen commenced negociations 
with James III. of Scotland, bartering for 
present help her son's hand, and seeking to 
conclude a betrothal between him and the 
Princess Margaret, the Scotch King's daugh- 
ter. A sum of money was obtained from the 
huckstering king upon the security of the town 



182 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

and fortress of Berwick-upon-Tweed, and 
Margaret herself raised £100 upon a gold 
goblet, wWcli was fancied by the Queen of 
Scotland. 

xxii. " In other respects, however,' ' writes 
Dr. Doran, in his lively and agreeable pages, 
"the royal fugitives were not ill-cared for. 
Old palace apartments were newly furnished 
for them, provisions were liberally supplied 
to them. Margaret drew upon the govern- 
ment for about fifty pounds sterling per 
month, and the dignity of our young Prince 
of Wales seems to have been fairly sustained, 
inasmuch as the Exchequer-EoUs of Scotland 
make mention of supplying ' grain and pro- 
vender for six horses of the Prince of England 
in Falkland during twenty-three days by 
order of our lady the Queen.' " 

xxiii. "Nevertheless," continues Dr. Doran, 
" comfort and plenty were not the attendants 
of each coming day. Queen, King, and 
Prince on one occasion spent five days to- 
gether with one day's provision of bread, and 
one solitary herring between the three ! Of 
persons so destitute, of course the credit was 
not very good, and we are told of the royal 
party being at mass when the Queen, finding 



A HALF-FAETHING. 183 

herself without money for the usual offering, 
asked a Scottish archer at her side to lend 
her a small sum for the purpose. The Scot 
weighed the request, and considered it, and 
did not like it. Neither would he be un- 
courteous to a lady and a Queen. Slowly, 
therefore, did he take his bag from his pouch, 
and reluctantly drew therefrom the smallest 
current coin of the realm — one shabby half- 
farthing, and unwillingly dropping it into the 
Queen's hand, respectfully invited her to re- 
member that it was only lent — not given ! 
Margaret accepted the insult and the loan ; 
and she acknowledged in after years that of 
all the painful incidents of her adversity, the 
most painful and the least tolerable was this 
fact of the ungallant Scottish archer and his 
wretched half-farthing !'' 

xxiv. Margaret's exertions in Scotland did 
not at first bring forth much fruit. Her 
eagerness and her daring, moreover, were so 
great that her best friends continually dreaded 
lest she should suddenly embark in some 
dangerous enterprise which might ruin alto- 
gether the tottering cause of the Lancastrians. 
And so we find two of her most trusted ad- 



184 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

herents writing to her"' — (Lord Hungerford 
and Sir Robert Whittingham, April, 1461) — 
" Fear you not, but be of good comfort, and 
beware that you adventure not your person, 
ne my lord the prince by the sea, till ye have 
other word from us ; in less (unless) than 
your person cannot be there (where) as ye 
are, and that extreme necessity drive you 
thence.'^ 

XXV. That extreme necessity was found 
(April, 1462) in the arrival of the Earl of 
Warwick, with a glittering train, at Dumfries, 
some few miles from Kircudbright. His 
mission ostensibly was to claim, the hand of 
the Scots Queen for the handsome Edward ; 
but Margaret felt that his close neighbour- 
hood compromised her security, and raising 
what monies she could, hastily embarked on 
board a small trading vessel, and crowded on 
all sail for France. Her reception there was 
in accordance with the mean and crafty cha- 
racter of its King, who interposed continual 
delays when she petitioned him for help, 
until her necessities wrung from her a 
pledge of the town and port of Calais as 

* Sir John Fenn's Collection of Original Letters. 



*1 

t 
I' 




A VAIN ATTEMPT. 185 

security for tlie sums he finally advanced 
her. It is difficult for us, at this distance 
of time, to understand the value set bv our 
ancestors on the possession of that isolated 
strip of French territory ; but it was the sole 
relic of a series of glorious wars, — a constant 
souvenir of the greatness of England under 
the Plantagenet kings, — and no act of Mar- 
garet's whole life rendered her so unpopular 
with her English subjects as this virtual 
cession of their favourite conquest. 

xxvi. At Calais the unresting and un- 
daunted Queen contrived to assemble a body 
of foreign troops, and embarking them on 
board a small and ill-equipped flotilla, she 
sailed for the Northumbrian coast. They 
landed at Tynemouth (October, 1462), 
but not to make any stand upon English 
ground. " Whether, " says the Yorkist 
chronicler, " she were afraid of her own 
shadow, or that the Frenchmen cast so 
many doubts, the truth is, that the whole 
army returned to their ships, and a tempest 
rose so suddenly, that if she had not taken a 
small caravil, and with good speed had arrived 
safe at Berwick, she had neither vexed King 
Edward after, as she did, with anew invasion, 



186 EDWARD- OF LANCASTER. 

nor jet she had not lived all her old age, in 
misery, wretchedness, and calamity, as she did^ 
— losing both her husband, her son, her realm, 
and her honour." 

xxvii. At Berwick the Queen and her 
princely son, attended by their faithful knight, 
Pierre de Brez6, whose loyalty to his sove- 
reign was heightened by his adoration of the 
woman, remained — still plotting and weaving 
— during the winter of 1462. Early in the 
spring of the following year, however, she 
was once more in the field, eager to replace 
on her husband's brow the crown he so little 
cared for, and to secure its inheritance to her 
comely son. Leaving him in safe tendance at 
Berwick, she moved towards Wales, and was 
joined by King Henry, who had passed the 
winter in Harlech Castle. Having assembled 
such an army as seemed to give her a reason- 
able hope of success in the ensuing campaign, 
she caused her son to quit his seclusion at 
Berwick, and then commenced offensive move- 
ments against the Yorkist King. At Hexham 
the two antagonists met again, and once more 
the green sward of England was wet with 
English blood. Lord Montague, the able 
brother of the mighty Warwick, inflicted a 



A ROMANTIC EPISODE. 187 

signal defeat upon the unfortunate Lancas- 
trians, of whom 2,000 were slain in the fight, 
and some scores of knights and nobles after- 
wards cruelly beheaded. It was with diffi- 
culty that Henry himself escaped from the 
bloody field, but one of his servants purposely 
wearing the coronetted cap of the sovereign, 
was seized by the victors, and before the error 
could be discovered, his master was in safety. 
xxviii. And now the Queen and her gallant 
son, their hopes and their ambition so rudely 
shattered, again prepared to take refuge in 
freindly Scotland. On their way a romantic 
adventure befel them, which history has not 
disdained to accept as veritable, and which 
has been the theme of many an old song and 
popular ballad."' Passing through a forest 
near the Scottish border, the Queen and prince 
strayed from their retinue, and, while vainly 
endeavouring to recover the right track, came 
suddenly upon a robber, who naturally re- 
garded them as his lawful prey, and bending 
his bow, compelled them to await his bidding. 
In an agony of despair, but with her usual 
courage, the Queen straightway appealed to 
him for protection, and leading forth her son, 

* ChastiUain, Ckron. de Bourg. See Hume, Rapin, and Lingard. 



188 EDWAKD OF LANCASTER. 

exclaimed, " Behold the son of jour King ! I 
commit him to your care ; — I am Margaret, 
the Queen/' 

xxix. The robber was touched by this 
frank address, and awed by the high dignity 
of the suppliant. \A'hether he was a Lan- 
castrian at heart, as some accounts assert, or 
simply a man of generous feelings, it is cer- 
tain that he accepted the perilous charge, and 
conveyed both the Queen and the Prince in 
safety to the coast, where they embarked for 
Scotland. But the total ruin of the Lan- 
castrian cause had wrought a great change in 
the thoughts and sympathies of the Scotch 
King, who was no longer willing to provoke 
the anger of his powerful neighbour by ex- 
tending succour or protection to his rival. 
The fugitives, therefore, were again compelled 
to resume their wanderings, and flee for 
safety to the last stronghold which the Lan- 
castrians held in England — the rock-built 
fortress of Bamborough, 

" King Ida's castle, huge and square." 

XXX. Thence, after a brief delay, they set 
sail in two small vessels for the coast of France, 
their fortunes being shared by seven of the 



AT BRUGES. 189 

Queen's maids of honour, and about tAVo 
hundred lojal Lancastrian gentlemen. But 
Destiny still made a mock of them, and the 
storm-driven ships, instead of gaining some 
port belonging to the French King, were 
compelled to make for L'Ecluse, where the 
Duke of Burgundy — no friend to the Lan- 
castrians — held jurisdiction. Harsh and in- 
hospitable was the reception accorded to the 
ill-fated wanderers, who, half-famished and 
lacking the commonest necessaries, made their 
way as best they could to Bruges. There 
Queen Margaret found a decent home for her 
travel-worn son, while she herself, whom no 
danger could daunt, — whose indomitable spirit 
no difficulties could weaken, — gladly adop- 
ted the mean attire of a peasant woman, and in 
a tilted cart went forward to the capital of the 
Burgundian Duke. It was not without endur- 
ing the most ignominious repulses that the 
Queen contrived to see him; but when ad- 
mitted, at length, to an interview, her elo- 
quent tale — her extreme misery — the influence 
of her regal beauty, and the romance of her 
perilous adventures — so far overcame the pre- 
judices of the Prince, that he dismissed her 



190 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

with a noble donation of jewels and money, 
and promised her farther help. 

xxxi. At Bruges the fugitives now enjoyed 
a burst of sunshine. They were treated with 
the honours due to their rank ; their table was 
well supplied ; their coffer was never empty. 
The eldest son of the Duke of Burgundy, — the 
young and chivalrous Charles, Count de 
Charolois, — specially distinguished himself 
by his delicate attention. At a grand festival 
given by the Duke, an attendant presented 
water to the young Prince of Wales, that he 
might wash his hands. The Prince refused 
until the Count de Charolois had preceded 
him in the ceremony, and when the Count 
would not avail himself of the privilege, be- 
sought him at least to wash his hands at the 
same time, that they might be placed upon 
equal terms. Not even to this request would 
the Count accede, but persisted in giving the 
place of honour to his princely guest. Then 
said the young Edward, " How can so high 
a courtesy be due to one who is a poor fugi- 
tive, stripped of his dignities and possessions ? 
How can precedence be given to a disinherited 
prince in the presence of the Sovereign Duke?" 



A SAFE RETREAT. 191 

"Even so/* replied the Count de Cliarolois, 
" because you are still the son and heir of the 
King of England. Mj father is but the 
Sovereign Duke of Burgundy, and I am, 
therefore, of rank inferior to your own.'* 

xxxii. The Duke, however, was very soli- 
citous to rid himself of guests whose presence 
at his court might probably embroil him with 
Edward the 4th, and accordingly he has- 
tened to provide them with the means of 
repairing to Qaeen Margaret's father at 
Lorraine, — to the Troubadour sovereign, 
King Rene, of Sicily and Jerusalem. Old 
Rene received them with song and lay, 
which was almost all he could afford ; gave 
up to them the castle of Kuerere, near St. 
Michel's ; and allowed them out of his scanty 
income the sum of £80 yearly for the main- 
tenance of their household. At Kuerere, 
Margaret and the Prince of Wales resided for 
some years, attended with devoted service by 
many of the most distinguished adherents of 
the house of Lancaster. Among these was 
the illustrious Sir John Fortescue, who under- 
took the tuition of the boy-prince, and wrote 
for his instruction the well-known '' Treatise 
on the laws of England." Good use was 



192 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

made of his time by tlie youthful Edward, 
who, by his natural gifts and sedulous in- 
dustry soon became the " most accomplished,' ' 
as he was " one of the handsomest princes of 
Europe." His knowledge of history was ex- 
tensive; his elocution graceful, and his speech 
well considered. He had that ease of manner 
and gentle courtesy which are so eminently 
attractive in a prince, and which lend a pecu- 
liar value to his lightest sayings. His taste 
in music was excellent ; he sang and played 
with considerable skill. Of a handsome 
person, he learned from his mother how to set it 
off to advantage by a careful choice of his at- 
tire. Thus, the ideal portrait sketched by the 
eloquent pen of Bulwer Lytton is probably 
not far from a true one ; and in the following 
*' presentment '' we may see, if we choose, the 
figure of Edward of Westminter, Prince of 
Wales. 

xxxiii. " Spare, like Henry V., almost to 
the manly defect of leanness, his proportions 
were slight to those which gave such portly 
majesty to the vast-chested Edward, but they 
evinced the promise of almost equal strength ; 
the muscles hardened to iron by early exer- 
cise in arms, the sap of youth never wasted by 



AN IDEAL PORTRAIT. 193 

riot and debauch ; his short purple manteline 
trimmed with ermine, was embroidered with 
his grandfather's favorite device, ' the Silver 
Swan,' — he wore on his breast the badge of 
St. George, and the single ostrich plume, 
which made his cognisance as Prince of Wales, 
waved over a fair and ample forehead, on 
which were, even . then, traced the lines of 
musing thought and high design ; his chest- 
nut hair curled close to his noble head, his 
eye shone dark and brilliant, beneath the 
deep-set brow, which gives to the human 
countenance such expression of energy and 
intellect — all about him, in aspect and mien, 
seemed to betoken a mind riper than his 
years, a masculine simplicity of taste and 
bearing, the earnest and grave temperament, 
mostly allied in youth, to pure and elevated 
desires, to an honorable and chivalric soul." 
xxxiv. Meanwhile, in England, Edward 
the Fourth seemed firmly established on the 
throne, and men believed that the sun of the 
House of Lancaster had set for ever. But 
with success the character of the Yorkist 
monarch rapidly developed its darker quali- 
ties, and he, himself, with careless hands, 

VOL. I. K 



194 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

sowed tlie seeds of a new revolution. Of vast 
energy when a foe had to be conquered or an 
obstacle overcome, his nature was one of 
those which, after a brief and violent exer- 
tion, gladly sink into lethargic indolence. 
And never was English Court so blithe as 
after the overthrow of the Lancastrians ! 
Joust, and revel, and song, and dance marked 
every day. From pleasure to pleasure the 
volatile monarch eagerly hurried, rousing 
himself at times for some crafty stroke of 
policy, or to subdue the not irresistible virtue 
of some new beauty. From this King of the 
wine cup and the Paphian bower, many an 
Englishman in discontent and wrathful scorn 
began to turn his eyes to the pale countenance 
of the devout Henry, who languished in 
silence and solitude within the walls of the 
Tower. Nevertheless, the Lancastrian party, 
though gradually swelled in numbers and in- 
fluence by those whom Edward dishonoured 
or defrauded, oppressed or betrayed, — could 
never again have raised itself but for the sud- 
den accession of one who was in himself a 
host, — the king-making Earl of Warwick, 
the most powerful and relentless of the ene- 
mies of the Eed Eose. The causes which in- 



KING AND KING-MAKEE. 195 

diiced this last and greatest of the Barons of 
Norman England to abandon the monarch 
whose crown he had secured upon Towton's 
bloody field, were many and important. 

XXXV. King Edward, partly to rid himself 
of the presence of so grave and potent a coun- 
sellor, and partly to amuse the French King 
with hopes of an alliance, despatched Earl 
Warwick to Paris to negotiate his marriage 
with the Lady Bona of Savoy, the sister of 
the Queen of France. Warwick was received 
with a splendid welcome, and soon had the 
fortune to effect a successful conclusion of his 
embassy. He returned to England, flushed 
with triumph, to find that Edward had sud- 
denly wedded Elizabeth Woodville, the fair 
and intriguing widow of the Lancastrian 
noble. Lord Grey of Groby, — her virtue 
having resisted the monarch's suit, and her 
calculating loveliness secured a regal crown. 
Warwick felt himself dishonoured and dis- 
graced before the French King by an act of 
such unkingly duplicity, and his anger was 
further increased as day by day he witnessed 
new honours and additional estates bestowed 
upon the parvenu kinsmen of the new Queen. 

K 2 



196 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

A deadlier blow was an insult offered by the 
ribald King to a lady of Warwick's family. 
He resolved to unmake what lie bad made. 
Strengthening himself by the marriage of his 
daughter Isabel to George Duke of Clarence, 
the King's brother, to whom he held out the 
dazzling bait of the English crown, he openly 
raised the standard of revolt, and was joined 
by most of the old feudal barons, who desired to 
crush the "mushroom nobility" fostered by the 
politic Edward. But at first he was unsuccess- 
ful. A popular insurrection in the North failed. 
Edward, entrapped at Middleham Castle, con- 
•trived to effect his escape, and levying a con- 
siderable army, swept all opposition before 
him, and drove Warwick and Clarence into 
a hasty retreat from the shores of England. 

xxxvi. The King-maker now perceived that 
his hopes of revenge upon Edward centred in 
an alliance with the Lancastrian party. He 
felt that he could not succeed without the Eed 
Eose, and he knew that the Eed Eose could 
not succeed without him. Yet between War- 
wick and Margaret there yawned an apparently 
impassible gulph. Each, it would seem, had too 
much to forgive ; — Warwick, the wrongs and 
insults heaped upon him and his kith and kin 



THE QUEEN AND THE BARON. 197 

by the Lioness of Anjou in the flush of her 
prosperity ; Margaret, the ruin of her hopes 
and her son^s hopes on the red plain of Tow- 
ton. But self-interest is the most powerful of 
all motives, and the reason will often compel 
what the heart not unnaturally refuses. The 
Lancastrian nobles fully appreciated the 
"tower of strength" of Warwick's name and 
influence, and urged their Queen to make 
the concessions he demanded. They were 
seconded by Louis XL, who pointed out that 
the King-Maker, and only he, could secure 
for her princely son his heritage of the crown 
of England. 

III. 

A RECONCILIATION. 

i. Warwick and the Queen met at Tours. 
This remarkable interview has been described 
at length by the old chroniclers, upon whom 
the spectacle of the haughty baron and im- 
perious queen, meeting under the shadow of 
a darkling Past to confront a stormy Future 
appears to have exercised a peculiar fascina- 
tion. Nor were these, the principal actors^ 
without a fitting audience. Assembled in the 



198 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

presence-cliaiTiber were tlie trusty partisans of 
a down-trodden cause, who, through misery 
and penury, and defeat, had remained faithful 
to the Eed Rose. The chivalrous Seneschal 
of Norman dv, that Sir Pierre de Breze, who 
was the Queen's secret lover and constant 
friend; her brother, the Count de Vaude- 
monte ; Jasper of Pembroke, father of that 
Henry Tudor who was to avenge on the house 
of York the sorrows of that of Lancaster ; Sir 
John Fortescue, the first great English legist; 
the Dukes of Exeter and Somerset ; and the 
crafty and subtle Louis the Eleventh of 
France, — these were spectators not unworthy 
of the scene. 

ii. The results of this memorable interview, 
after the recriminations of both Queen and 
Baron had terminated in a compact of future 
alliance, were the marriage of Edward of Lan- 
caster with the Lady Anne, second daughter 
of the Earl of Warwick, and the immediate 
invasion of England by the powerful King- 
Maker. Each of these events requires a 
detailed examination. 

iii. The loves of the Lady Anne and the 
Heir of Lancaster are interwoven with so 
much of poetical tradition and picturesque 



A LOVE STORY. 199 

romance, that it is difficult to determine where 
history ends and fiction begins. But as there 
is always a foundation of truth in the legends 
of the people, it may be accepted as a fact, 
we think, that the prince and the lady Anne 
had secretly met, and learned to love each 
other, before the interests of their parents 
united them in marriage. During their French 
exile, Margaret and her son often visited the 
court of Louis at Amboise ; often journeyed 
through the fair provinces of Gascony and 
Anjou ; and sometimes repaired to Paris itself. 
And there, it is said, by minstrel and story- 
teller, young Edward, — a lad of some fourteen 
years of age, — first gazed on the loveliness of 
the Lady Anne, and conceived that intense 
passion for her which was the hope and inspi- 
ration of his brief, sad life. He saw her in 
Eouen afterwards, and left in her chamber, 
privately, the portrait of her young adorer. 
To London, at imminent hazard, he also fol- 
lowed her ; having travelled in the train of 
Louis' ambassador (the Archbishop of Nar- 
bonne), disguised as a young ecclesiastic; 
and we are told that, on this occasion, he was 
accompanied by his queenly mother, who, 
in the dress of an abb6, risked life and liberty 



200 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

for an interview witli her imprisoned husband. 
The young prince, on his arrival in London, 
found that Warwick and his household were 
at his government of Calais. Thither, nothing 
daunted, the ardent lover, with one confi- 
dential attendant, repaired ; and passed a de- 
lightful week of stolen interviews, and secret 
meetings, all the more delightful in that the 
lady was ignorant of the real rank of her 
wooer, and loved him for himself. Upon this 
part of the old legend Sir Bulwer Lytton has 
founded his graceful ballad, " The Lay of the 
Heir of Lancaster y 

" His birthright but a father's name, 
« A grandsire's hero-sword ; 

He dwelt within the Stranger's land, 
The friendless, homeless lord ! 
" Yet one dear hope, too dear to tell. 
Consoled the exiled man ; 
The angels have their home in Heaven, 
And gentle thoughts in Anne. 
" Methinks the sun hath never smil'd 
Upon the exiled man. 
Like that bright morning when the boy 

Told all his soul to Anne 

" No ; while his birthright but a name, 

A Grandsire's hero-sword, ' 

He would not woo the lofty maid 
To love the banished lord. 
" But when, with clarion, fife, and drum, 
He claims and wins his own ; 
When o'er the Deluge drifts his Ark, 
To rest upon a throne. 




0^ 



A NEW ALLIANCE. 201 



" Then, wilt thou deign to hear the hope 
That bless'd the exiled man, 
When pining for his Father's crown 
To deck the brows of Anne ?" 



Thus much of truth, however, may be ga- 
thered from the quaint fancies of the old ro- 
mancists, that the alliance between the Lady 
Anne and Prince Edward, which policy dic- 
tated, affection sanctified, and love was for 
once the handmaid of ambition. 

iv. After the interview at Tours, to which 
we have alluded, the Earl of Warwick swore, 
upon the True Cross, in St. Mary's church at 
Angers, to be faithful and stedfast to the party 
of King Henry. Margaret, in her turn, vowed 
solemnly " to treat the earl as true and faith- 
ful, and never for deeds past to make him any 
reproach;'' and King Louis, and his brother 
the Duke of Guienne, undertook to sustain to 
the utmost the Earl of Warwick in- his enter- 
prise, — an oath which Louis intended to keep, 
as long as by so doing he could serve his own 
interest. After this oath-ceremony the articles 
of marriage were signed between Prince Ed- 
ward and the Lady Anne, and it was agreed 
that the latter should remain with Margaret, 

K 5 



202 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

and tlie marriage not be consummated until 
the earl had regained the realm of England, 
or most part of it, for King Henry. Prince 
Edward was appointed sole regentof the King- 
dom upon attaining his majority, and for Clar- 
ence was reserved the duchy of York, the 
vice-royalty of Ireland, and the right to the 
succession of the throne if male issue failed the 
Prince of Wales. 

V. It was further stipulated that in his ex- 
pedition against Edward, Warwick should not 
be accompanied by the Prince of Wales, nor 
should the prince appear in England until his 
father was proclaimed. " In this, no doubt, 
she was guided by maternal fears, and by some 
undeclared suspicion either of the good faith 
of Warwick, or of his means to raise a suffi- 
cient army to fulfil his promise. The brave 
prince wished to be himself foremost in the 
battles fought in his right and for his cause. 
But the earl contended, to the surprise and 
joy of Margaret, that it best behoved the 
prince's interests to enter England without 
one enemy in the field, leaving others to clear 
his path, free himself from all the personal 
hate of hostile factions, and without a drop of 
blood upon the sword of one heralded and 



A DAEING ENTERPRISE. 203 

announced as the peacemaker and impartial 
reconciler of all feuds." 

vi. And these weighty matters having been 
thus earnestly discussed and calmly settled, 
the heir of Lancaster and the daughter of 
Warwick, in the old palace at Amboise, and 
in the presence of kings, nobles, and knights, 
plighted their marriage troth. 

Leaving the youthful pair to enjoy the 
sweet summer of their love, and a seemingly 
endless round of joyous carousals, the king- 
maker prepared to wrest the crown of Eng- 
land from the brow where he had originally 
placed it. 

vii. Time and circumstance both favoured the 
enterprise. Edward was deep in the love-tryst 
and the revel ; and the commonalty, oppressed 
by the exactions which his lavish expenditure 
rendered necessary ; the old feudal nobles, 
disgusted by the supercilious arrogance of the 
Woodvilles and their upstart kin, began to 
pine for the equitable rule and generous spirit 
of the great earl. " His absence," says Hall, 
the chronicler, " made the common people 
more and more to long and be desirous to 
have the sight of him, and presently to behold 
his personage. For they judged that the sun 



204 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

was clearly taken from the world when he was 
absent, Tn such high estimation amongst the 
people was his name, that neither no one man 
they had in so much honour, neither no one 
person they so much praised, or, to the clouds, 
so highly extolled/' And while Edward 
revelled in his wonted luxurious sloth, nor 
heeded the warnings of his advisers, Warwick 
collected a body of foreign troops, as the 
nucleus of the army which he knew would 
start up from the very soil whenever his 
banner fluttered and his trumpet sounded on 
the shore of England. For there, indeed, 
men " so much daily and hourly desired and 
wished so sore his arrival and return, that 
almost all men were in harness, looking for 
his landing.'' 

viii. To prevent the meditated' enterprise, 
Edward's staunch ally, and Margaret's steady 
foe — Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy — 
prepared such a formidable navy '' as likely 
had not been seen before, gathered in manner 
of all nations, which army lay at the mouth 
of the Seine, ready to fight with the Earl of 
Warwick, when he should set out of his har- 
borowe." But a storm arose, and dispersed 
the Burgundian fleet, and when on the next 



WARWICK LANDS IN ENGLAND. 205 

day tlie sea subsided, and the sunshine broke 
forth, Warwick " halsed up the sails,'^ with- 
out let or hindrance, crossed the channel, and 
arrived at Dartmouth. 

ix. He was received with a burst of enthu- 
siasm from the armed crowds collected upon 
the neighbouring cliffs to witness and wel- 
come his coming. And immediately he made 
a proclamation in the name of King Henry 
VI., upon high pains, commanding and 
charging all men apt or able to bear armour, 
to prepare themselves to fight against Edward, 
Duke of York, who had untruly usurped the 
crown and dignity of the realm. And the 
small levy of foreign hirelings, which he had 
brought with him from the continent, daily 
received accessions of stalwart English 
yeomen. The bale-fires blazed from east to 
west, and north to south, and everywhere 
went up the shout of '' A Warwick ! King 
Henry !" It reached King Edward at length, 
who, rousing himself, as was his wont when 
the peril was upon him, had gone to make 
head against an insurrection in the north. He 
turned at once to meet the onset of triumphant 
Warwick; but when the two armies were 
near each other's posts, he suddenly learned 



206 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

that Lord Montague, Warwick's brother, who 
commanded a large body of the royal troops, 
and whose fidelity had been unsuspected, had 
thrown off the mask, and declared for " War- 
wick and King Henry/' No resource re- 
mained but flight. He mounted horse and 
rode rapidly to Lynn, where he and his few 
attendants, without money or raiment, em- 
barked on board an English and two Dutch 
vessels, and after many dangerous chances, 
succeeded in reaching Holland. 

X. And now Henry VL was once more 
King of England, and the Earl of Warwick 
had accomplished his revenge, and Margaret 
of Anjou with throbbing heart thought of a 
glorious future, and the princely Edward 
smiled to think that his hand would set a 
crown upon the brow of his beloved! The 
red rose once more raised its head in the sun- 
shine, and the white drooped in its desolation 
beneath the armed heel of the King-maker 
(October 6th, 1470). The new rule seemed 
universally accepted throughout the realm, or 
if men anywhere sighed for the Yorkist dy- 
nasty, they were found among the burghers and 
trades of the large towns, who had learnt the 
truth that their interests were utterly hostile 



CLOUDS AND SHADOWS. 207 

to those of the great barons. Not for long 
years, however, had England enjoyed such 
peace and order as now, under the wise, firm, 
but merciful rule of the Earl of Warwick. 

xi. Tidings of the success of their party had 
reached Margaret and her son early in Octo- 
ber, 1470, and instant preparations were joy- 
fully made for their triumphal return to Eng- 
land. With the Lady Anne and the Countess 
of Warwick they repaired to Harfleur, and 
there they were detained, week after week 
and month after month, waiting for a fair 
wind. Thrice the queen attempted the voyage, 
and thrice her ships were driven back on the 
Normandy coast. Providence had decreed 
that as queen and sovereign she should never 
again land upon the English shore. For, at 
last, on the 24th of March, she embarked on 
board her ships, and after much weary tossing 
to and fro, entered, on the 14th of April, Wey- 
mouth harbour. And on that very day — the 
Easter Sabbath — a day which the chroniclers 
tell us opened in mist, and gloom, and heavy, 
lurid shadow, the fortune of her house was 
stricken to the earth on Barnet Heath ! . . . ^ 

xii. It was on the 14th of March, 1471, that 
a single ship sailed up the Humber, and dis- 



208 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

embarked at the small village of Eavenspur 
a bodj of 500 armed men. Conspicuous 
among these was a knight of unusual stature, 
of lordly port, and with the air and dignity of 
a man born to command men. This was Ed- 
ward of York, and the 500 spears and shields 
that surrounded him the army with which he 
proposed to reconquer his crown and kingdom. 
" The iron step of the dauntless Edward was 
once more pressed upon the soil of England." 
xiii. With his little band he immediately 
set out on his adventurous march, pausing for 
the night at a small village some two miles in- 
land. In the morning he was joined by An- 
thony Woodville, and 1,500 men, who had 
landed at other points of the coast, and the 
whole then moved forward upon York. They 
were everywhere received with indifference 
and apathy, if not hostility, until it became 
evident that as a king designing to regain his 
crown he was likely to receive but an unsatis- 
factory welcome. So, with consummate dupli- 
city he mounted the ostrich feather, the cog- 
nizance of the Lancastrian Prince of Wales, 
shouted " Long live King Henry !" and de- 
clared that he had only returned to England 
to claim his private heritage, the duchy of 



A KINGLY PERJURER. 209 

York, whicli parliament had awarded to his 
brother Clarence. And "such a power/' says 
the Yorkist chronicler Hall, " hath justice 
ever among men, that all, moved by mercy or 
compassion, began either to favour or not to 
resist him/' 

xiv. At York the citizens stoutly refused to 
admit him, except as Duke of York, and upon 
condition that he swore to be a true, loyal, and 
faithful servant to King Henry. " And Ed- 
ward," says the Yorkist chronicler, " being 
glad of this fortunate chance, did not hesitate 
at that most consummate perjury. For the next 
morning, at the gate where he should enter, a 
priest being ready to say mass, in the mass 
time, receiving the body of the blessed 
Saviour, solemnly swearing to keep and ob- 
serve the two articles above mentioned 
and loyally to maintain all the rights of 
King Henry, the gates thereupon were 
thrown open, and Edward entered into 
the cityj soon to reveal himself as King 
Henry's deadliest fo?." Day by day his party 
gained in strength, and he speedily found him- 
self sufficiently powerful to issue from the walls 
of York and do battle for his throne. Avoid- 
ing the Earl of Warwick's army, which lay 



210 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

at Leicester to bar his progress southward, he 
inarched upon London. The citizens, recog- 
nizing in his success the downfall of the feu- 
dal aristocracy and the development of com- 
mercial enterprise under the protection of the 
crown, gladly welcomed him, and assisted him 
with levies of men and supplies of money. 

XV. With a powerful army King Edward 
now turned upon Warwick, who had concen- 
trated his forces at Barnet Heath, and had been 
reinforced by his son-in-law, the Duke of 
Clarence, and his able and ambitious brother^ 
the Marquis of Montague. Had not treachery 
been at work in his camp, the success of the 
illustrious " King-maker'' could hardly have 
been doubtful. But Clarence, influenced by 
jealousy of Prince Edward, whose alliance 
with Lady Anne thwarted all his own ambi- 
tious projects — bribed by King Edward's 
promises, and moved, perhaps, by some touch 
of brotherly feeling — broke through every 
tie of honour and gratitude, and deserted to 
the King, in the night-time, with 12,000 men, 
Warwick now saw that all was lost, and yet 
his proud soul remained unshaken. He re- 
jected with contempt the overtures made by 
Edward and Clarence, and resolved to hazard 



DEATH OF THE KING-MAKEE. 211 

a general engagement. To show his soldiers 
that he meant to share the fortmie of the 
fight with the meanest among them^ he dis- 
mounted fi'om his horse, and fought on foot. 
His followers, animated bj so noble an 
example to surpass themselves, engaged with 
such fury that Edward's army recoiled from 
the shock, and it seemed possible that victory 
might yet crown the banner of the Ked Eose- 
But, unfortunately for the hopes of the Lan- 
caster, an accident determined it otherwise. 
Warwick's cognizance on that bloody day 
was a sun ; Edward's, a star with rays ; but 
the morning being misty it was difficult to 
distinguish one from the other, and the Earl 
of Oxford, a zealous adherent of the Lancas- 
trians, was, by mistake, attacked by his own 
partisans, and driven off the field. The error 
was irreparable. Warwick and his brother 
fell, bravely fighting to the last, and around 
them closely intermingled lay friend and foe. 
Edward was completely victorious, and 
clutched the crown of England with a grasp, 
that day, which only Death could loosen. 

xvi. Queen Margaret and her son, the 
Countess of Warwick, and " the lords and 
other of their fellowship," embarked on board 



212 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

the ships destined to convey them to Eng- 
land on the 24th of March, but so contrary 
were the winds that they were tossed about 
at sea for the space of twenty days, until, on 
the 14th of April, the expedition entered 
Weymouth harbour. On that very day the 
'' King-maker' ' received his overthrow at 
Barnet Heath. The disastrious tidings reached 
Queen Margaret at Cerne Abbey, on the mor- 
row, and almost shattered the lion-hearted 
woman to the dust. Accompanied by her 
son and the Lady Anne, she betook herself for 
safety to the Abbey of Beaulieu, claiming 
there the privilege of sanctuary. The 
vigorous mind soon recovered from its tem- 
porary prostration, and began to develope new 
schemes of ambition and revenge. There 
still existed a Lancastrian party, whose 
leaders repaired to her presence, and promised 
her their swords and arms, if the young 
Prince of Wales would but lead them into 
battle. Would he but take the field, and ap- 
pear in his own quarrel, " a confluence of the 
boldest youth" would gather to his standard. 
" Nothing,' ' they argued, " had so advanced 
the title of York as March's presence in 
every battle, and nothing had so foiled the 



THE LAST BATTLE. 213 

reputation of Lancaster, as King Henry's in- 
active piety and fighting still by deputies. 
The soldiers thinking it vain for them to 
hazard their lives, when the Prince, whom it 
concerns timorously refuseth to venture his 
own.'"'' 

xvii. Queen Margaret long resisted the en- 
treaties of her adherents, a mother's love 
prevailing over a queen's ambition. She 
pleaded his inexperience ; but her arguments 
were lightly put aside, and Prince Edward 
brought into the front rank of the strife. As 
his astute councillors had concluded, ''his 
very name, like a diamond, attracted multi- 
tudes to the war;" and he moved through 
the counties of Devon, Somerset, and 
Gloucester, his army increasing as he went. 
At last. King Edward brought him to a stand 
at Tewkesbury, on the banks of the Severn, 
(May 4, 1471), and there was fought the last 
great battle which concluded for a time the 
Wars of the Roses, and was finally avenged 
by Henry Tudor on the fatal field of Bos- 
worth. 

* Habington. 



214 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

IV. 
TEWKESBURY. 

i. Margaret's army was arrayed in three di- 
visions ; the van, led by the Duke of Somerset; 
the main body, by Lord Wenlock ; and the 
rear, under the Earl of Eevonshire. His- 
torians do not agree whether the Prince of 
Wales entered the battle with Somerset^ 
or Wenlock ; and though they all speak of 
him as having fought with brilliant courage, 
none relate any particular feat of arms which 
he accomplished. Before the fight, he rode 
through the ranks, accompanied by Queen 
Margaret, and endeavoured to encourage his 
soldiers by his gallant bearing. Vain, how- 
ever, were all their efforts. The military 
skill of Edward was not to be withstood, and 
a few swift hours crushed into the dust the 
ambitious hopes of the Lancastrian Queen. 
Seldom was victory more decisive ; never was 
rout more thorough.* Three thousand of the 

* The defeat was partly owing to Somerset's impetuosity, who, 
seeing Lord Wenlock inactive on his horse, when his presence with 
his forces was urgently required in the battle-field, rushed up to him, 
and calling him " Traitor," drove his battle axe through his skull. 
Wenlock's men, discomfited by their leader's death, fled in confusion 
from the field. 



VICTOEY OF TEWKESBURY. 215 

partisans of the Red Eose fell on the field; 
the Earl of Devonshire and Lord Wenlock 
were among the slain; the Duke of Somerset, 
and twenty other persons of distinction, who 
had taken refuge in the neighbouring church, 
were surrounded, dragged from their sanctuary, 
and immediately beheaded. Margaret fell 
into the hands of the victorious Edward, and 
was reserved to figure on the occasion of his 
triumphal entry into London. Eventually 
she obtained her freedom, and after several 
years of sorrowful dependence upon the charity 
of the French King, Louis XL, died in France, 
in August, 1481 — two years before the death 
of the relentless enemy of her husband's 
house, Edward the 4th. 

ii. We are now called to the investigation 
of another of those problems so common in 
our early English history, when contemporary 
chronicles were misled by the strength of 
their own passions, or gathered their infor- 
mation with dif&culty from uncertain and un- 
reliable sources. Did Prince Edward, the 
son of Margaret of Anjou, die on the battle- 
field a soldier's death, or was he foully mur- 
dered in the King's preseuce? The com- 
monly received account is that of Habington, 



216 EDWARD OF LANCASTER, 

who represents liim as having been taken 
prisoner by Sir Eichard Crofts, and delivered 
up to King Edward for a reward of £100 
annuity, and on the royal promise that the 
captive's life should be spared. '' King Ed- 
ward," continues the historian, " presently, 
upon the delivery of the Prince, caused him 
to be brought into his presence, and enter- 
tained him with some demonstration of 
courtesy ; — moved, perhaps, thereunto by the 
innocency of his youth, compassion for his 
misfortune, or the comeliness of his person ; 
the composition of his body being guilty of no 
fault, but the too feminine beauty. At first 
it was supposed that the King might have 
some charitable intention, and resolved hap- 
pily to have settled him in the Duchy of Lan- 
caster, his father's inheritance, a patrimony 
too narrow for a king, and something too large 
for a subject ; and for that end is said to have 
entered discourse with him, to make trial 
whether his spirit would stoop to acknow- 
ledge a superior. He therefore questioned 
him what mad persuasion had made him 
enter into so rash an enterprise as to take up 
arms against bim, where the very attempt 
was rebellion, being against his sovereign, 



DEATH OF PRINCE EDWARD. 217 

and foil J, being in opposition to a PriDce so 
far in power above him. He expected a 
humble answer, as if he were to beg his life, 
as soft and gentle, according to the com- 
plexion either of his fortune or his face. But 
he, with a resolution as bold as his grand- 
father Henrj V. would have replied with, 
answered : ' that to recover his father miser- 
ably oppressed, and the crown violently 
usurped, he had taken arms. Neither could 
he be reputed to make any unjust claim, who 
desired no more than what had been possessed 
by Henry the Sixth, the Fifth,and Fourth — his 
father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, 
Kings of England ; and acknowledged by the 
approbation, not of the Kingdom only, but the 
world, and even by the progenitors of King 
Edward !' '^ 

iii. Wroth at a reply so spirited, the haughty 
Edward thrust the stripling aside with his 
gauntlet, and passionately strode out of the 
room. Whereupon the Dukes of Clarence 
and Gloucester, the Marquis of Dorset, and 
Lord Hastings, flung themselves upon the 
youthful Prince, and despatched him with 
their daggers ; he, the while, piteously crying 

VOL. I. L 



218 EDWAED OF LANCASTER. 

on his brotlier-in-law Clarence to spare his 
life. Turrel's account is precisely similar : the 
king" " not receiving," he says, " such sub- 
missive satisfactory answers as he required, 
and it may be some of riper years, on the like 
occasion, v^ould have done, he disdainfully 
thrust him from him, when presently the Duke 
of Gloucester and Clarence, Thomas, Mar- 
quis of Dorset, and the Lord Hastings (the 
King's back being then turned), with their 
poignards barbarously stabbed into the breast, 
and inhumanly murdered, against the law of 
God, nature, and nations, which occasioned 
the revenge of his blood afterwards in general 
upon them all, and in particular upon every 
one of them." Fabyan heightens the horror 
of the tragedy, and represents Edward as 
having given the murderers their cue by 
striking the Lancastrian stripling upon the 
mouth ; while, on the other hand, the contin- 
uator of the Croyland History deals in the 
vague and indefinite, — he was either "slain,'' 
he says, " on the field, or after the battle, by 
the avenging hands of certain persons." 

iv. Mr. Bucke, in his ingenious Vindication 
of the cliaracter of E-ichard the Third, endea- 
vours to exculpate his hero from the guilt of 



WAS HE MURDERED? 219 

having participated in the murder of the young 
prince, and represents him as withholding his 
hand, from his passionate love of the prince's 
wife, Anne of Warwick. " Anne ' was with 
her husband, Edward of Lancaster," he quotes 
from a Flemish annalist, " when that unfor- 
tunate prince was hurried before Edward IV., 
after the battle of Tewkesbury, and it was ob- 
served that Eichard, Duke of Gloucester, was 
the only person present who did not draw his 
sword on the royal captive, out of respect to 
the presence of Anne, as she was the near re- 
lative of his mother, and a person whose affec- 
tions he had always desired to possess." A 
still wilder tale is told by the French historian 
Pr6vost, who declared that the prince was 
slain in fight. Striking eagerly at a foeman, 
his sword ran through the latter' s body, and 
before he could recover it his pursuers sur- 
rounded and slaughtered him. The balance 
of evidence, however, seems to weigh heavily 
against this latter version, and most unpre- 
judiced students will accept as true the com- 
monly accredited narrative. 

V. The day after the murder, Edward of 
Lancaster was buried with but scanty decency 

L 2 



220 EDWARD OF LANCASTER. 

in the Abbey of Tewkesbury, at the entrance 
of the choir, and directly under the old gray 
tower. The spot was formerly commemo- 
rated by a slab of grey marble, but is now 
distinguished by a brass tablet, placed there 
by the " pious care'' of the people of Tewkes- 
bury, " in order that the memory of Edward 
Prince of Wales should not perish/' His 
father, the gentle Henry, died soon after his 
hapless son, by " sacrilegious hands," and 
was buried at Chertsey Abbey. The brave 
and much enduring Margaret lies interred in 
the cathedral of Angers, in the same tomb 
with her royal parents. So widely separated 
in death were the heroes of one of the saddest 
and most pitiful romances which the history 
of kings and princes can afford ! 



1 



CHAPTER IV. 



PRINCE EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARY, 
SON OF EDWARD IV. 



[Authorities : — Hall's, Harding's, and Habington's Chronicles ; 
Roberts's History of the Houses of York and Lancaster ; Fleet- 
wood's History ; Fabyan's Chronicle ; Lingard's History of 
England ; Holinshed ; Fenn's Paston Papers ; Walpole's Historic 
Doubts ; Sir Thomas More's Richard III; etc., etc.] 




*#7 



0^/'m/^M^ qW^^ 



CHAPTER IV. 



PRINCE EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARY, 
SON OF EDWARD IV. 

The treasures of antiquity, laid up 
In old historic rolls, I opened. 

Beaumont, 

Above, below, the rose of snow, 

Twined with her blushing foe we spread ; 

The bristled boar in infant gore 

Wallows beneath the thorny shade. 
Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom, 
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. 

GrRA-Y. 

i. When the Earl of Warwick, '' the King- 
Maker," with his son-in-law, the Duke of Cla- 
rence, entered London triumphantly, in No- 
vember, 1470, Elizabeth Woodville, the queen 
of the fourth Edward, was resident at the 
Tower, which, in those troublesome times, was 
both a palace and a prison. She had boasted 
much of her courage while danger yet loomed 
in the distance; had victualled the fortress 



224 EDWARD OP THE SANCTUARY. 

and encouraged its garrison ; but when tlie 
shouts of the fickle multitude and the cries of 
" a Warwick ! a Warwick !" were borne to 
her ears by the wandering winds, her woman's 
lieart sank within her, and hastily embarking 
in her royal barge, she ascended the Thames 
as far as Westminster. There she took refuge 
in the Sanctuary, — a structure of formidable 
strength, which then occupied a space at the 
end of St. Margaret's churchyard. She was 
accompanied by her daughters, the Ladies 
Elizabeth, Margaret, and Cicely, and by the 
Lady Scrope, her loyal attendant, and thus, 
in gloom and desolation, awaited the rapidly 
approaching hour of her travail. 

ii. The heir of York, afterwards so fatally 
known in history as the Boy-King, Edward 
the Fifth, was born, within the dark walls of 
the Sanctuary, on the 1st (some say the 14th) 
of November, 1470. The sorrowful circum- 
stances that attended his birth not inaptly 
prefigured the shadows of his brief career, 
and the horrors of his premature death. He 
seemed, '^ if Fortune beyond expectation 
altered not, heir-apparent only to his father's 
misery;" and he never lived to enjoy aught 
of his father's splendid success, — for at the 



A prince's birth. 225 

foot of the throne which it was his evil destiny 
to ascend yawned, as with terrible eagerness, 
a bloody grave ! 

iii. The Queen, in this her hour of need, 
was destitute of almost every convenience, 
and dependent on the good offices of Thomas 
Milling, the benevolent Abbot of Westminster. 
" Mother Cobb, a well-disposed midwife, resi- 
dent in the Sanctuary, charitably assisted the 
distressed queen in the hour of maternal peril, 
and acted as nurse to the little prince. Nor 
did Elizabeth, in this fearful crisis, want 
friends, for Master Serigo, her physician, 
attended herself and her son ; while a faithful 
butcher, John Gould, prevented the whole 
Sanctuary party from being starved into sur- 
render, by supplying them with ' half a beef 
and two muttons every week.' ^' 

iv. A few days after his birth the heir of 
England was christened by the Prior of 
Westminster, who also officiated as his god- 
father; Lady Scrope and the Duchess of 
Bedford occupying the posts of godmothers. 
But, except in this respect, the whole cere- 
mony was as mean as the christening of " a 
poor man's child.'' He was named after 

L 5 



226 EDWARD OF TITE SANCTUARY. 

the greatest of his Plantagenet ancestors, 
and his royal sire, — Edward ; and, notwith- 
standing the mournful circumstances of his 
birth, was pronounced a strong and comely 
babe, as well he might be, if he in anything 
partook of the rare personal graces of his 
father and the tender loveliness of his mother. 
V. The Queen and her child remained under 
the protecting roof of the Sanctuary till her 
husband's triumphant invasion of England, in 
April, 1471. Warwick and his Lancastrian 
allies were unable to bar against him the 
road to London, and the victorious sovereign 
accordingly entered the capital in state, its 
gates being thrown wide to receive him, and 
the citizens thronging the streets to bid him a 
loyal welcome. Having seized upon the 
Tower, and the unresisting Henry, Edward 
repaired in succession to St. Paul's and to 
Westminster to offer his thanksgivings to the 
Lord of Hosts. This duty performed, he 
hastened to the Sanctuary, to embrace his 
Queen and infant son. " A long time," says 
the old chronicler, '' had she abiden and so- 
journed at Westminster, assuring her person 
only by the great franchise of that holy place ; 
in right great trouble, sorrow and heavi- 



BRIGHTER DAYS. 227 

ness, whicli slie sustained with all manner of 
patience that belonged to any creature, and 
as constantly as hath been seen at any time 
any of so high estate to endure. In the which 
season, nevertheless, she had brought into 
this world, to the King's greatest joy, a fair 
son, a prince, wherewith she presented him at 
his coming, to his heart's singular comfort 
and gladness, and to all them that him truly 
loved and would serve. From thence, that 
night, the King returned to London and the 
Queen with him, and lodged at the lodging 
of my lady, his mother ; where they heard 
divine service that night, and upon the mor- 
row. Good Friday." 

V. Edward now set out from the metropolis 
once more to measure swords with his great 
enemy, the haughty Warwick, and on Easter 
Sunday won the famed fight of Barn et fleath, 
where he trampled in blood and mire, on the red 
rose of ill-fated Lancaster. He then marched 
on to crown his success at Tewkesbury, and 
darken his fame by the murder of Edward of 
Westminster, while his " Lady Bessie" retired 
to the Tower, under the protection of her 
brave brother, Anthony Woodville. When 
her triumphant lord returned to London, free 



228 EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARY. 

from all enemies except tliose who all un- 
known and unsuspected sat at his board, and 
shared in his private councils, he made haste 
to reward the faithful adherents who had 
tended his wife in her day of peril and disaster. 
Margaret Cobb was pensioned with twelve 
pounds per annum ; Dr. Serigo with £40. 
The abbot was summoned to the knigVs privy 
council, and afterwards confirmed in his elec- 
tion to the Bishopric of Hereford. And 
bounties were lavished upon the meanest of 
those who had done his Queen a service. 

vi. The heir of England was earlj initiated, 
into the splendours and ceremonies of a court. 
In 1472, Edward was visited by his true ally 
and staunch friend, Louis of Bruges, Lord of 
Grauthuse, and Governor of Holland, for 
Charles the Bold, a man of high spirit, liberal 
intellect, and noble character, who, on two 
occasions, had greatly served the English 
King. He was received at Windsor with a 
regal hospitality, and on the morning after 
the day of his coming, heard mass in St. 
George's chapel. When the service was 
ended, King Edward gave his guest a cup of 
gold, garnished with pearl. In the midst of 
the cup was a great piece of unicorn's horn, 



MEDIEVAL KEVELS. 229 

and on the cover of the cup a great sapphire. 
" Then the king,'^ says a contemporary anna- 
list, '' came into the quadrant. My lord 
prince also, borne by his chamberlain, called 
Master Vaughan, bade the Lord Grauthuse 
welcome. Then the king" took his guest into 
the little park, where they had great sport, 
and there the king made him ride on his own 
horse, a right fair hobby, the which the king 
gave him. The king's dinner was ordered in 
the lodge in Windsor park. After dinner the 
king showed his guest his gardens and vine- 
yards of pleasure. Then the queen did order 
a grand banquet in her own apartments, at 
which King Edward, her eldest daughter, the 
Duchess of Exeter, the Lady Rivers, and the 
Lord of Grauthuse all sat with her at one 
mess ; and at another table sat the Duke of 
Buckingham, my lady, his wife, my Lord 
Hastings, chamberlain to the king, my Lord 
Berners, chamberlain to the queen, the son of 
Lord Grauthuse, and Master George Barthe, 
secretary to the Duke of Burgundy. There 
was a side table, at which sat a great view of 
ladies all on one side of the room. Also on 
one side of the outer chamber sat the queen's 
gentlewomen.'' And then there followed a 



230 EDWAED OF THE SANCTUARY. 

luxurious banquet, and when all had supped, 
the lords and ladies present made merry in 
the dance. 

vii. On the 13th of October, King Edward 
kept his royal state at Westminster palace, 
and in the forenoon he presented himself be- 
fore his parliament, in his royal robes, and 
received a loyal address from his faithful 
Commons, in which they expressed ''their 
commendation of the womanly behaviour and 
great constancy of his queen when he was 
beyond sea; also the great joy and surety of 
his land in the birth of the prince ; and the 
great kindness and humanity of the Lord 
Grauthuse, then present, shown to the king 
when in Holland." Grauthuse was now 
formally created Earl of Winchester — Oc- 
cleve, the poet, reading aloud his letters pa- 
tent. Then the king went into the White 
Hall, and the queen came thither crowned, 
and the infant Prince Edward, borne in the 
arms of his chamberlain. Master Vaughan. 
And thus the king, and queen, and prince, 
with their brilliant following, proceeded into 
the Abbey Church, and made their offerings 
at the shrine of St, Edward the Confessor. 

viii. Legends and traditions of singular as- 



A STRANGE LEGEND. 231 

trological predictions and mysterious prophe- 
cies always, unhappily, fulfilled, hover about 
the early lives of most of our Plantagenet 
sovereigns. With reference to Edward of the 
Sanctuary, the popular tradition is thus 
narrated by gossipping Dr. Doran : — 

" When the queen was about to give birth 
to her first child, the court physicians, skilled 
in astrology, predicted that the child would 
be a son. It proved to be a daughter, and 
the maids of honour laughed at the ' medicos ' 
and called them ' fools,' while Edward solaced 
himself with another prophecy, which said, 
that whether his eldest child were girl or boy, 
it should wear the crown of England. But 
now, when little Edward of the Sanctuary 
was growing in strength and beauty, the king, 
misdoubting astrologers, betook himself to 
the study of the stars and books of magic, 
and became so wise in the profitless lore, 
thereby gained, that he was able to draw his 
son's horoscope with his own hand. His 
eldest daughter, Elizabeth, on one occasion, 
came upon him when he was sitting mute, 
but not tearless, amid a group of lords, who 
dared not break the silence. The Princess, 
bolder than they, knelt at his knee and asked 



232 EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARr. 

Mm for a blessing. Edward looked upon her, 
took her to a recess in the chamber formed 
by a bay window, and seating her there, 
showed her the horoscope he had cast, where- 
by he had come to the conclusion, odious to 
himself, that no son of his would really ever 
wear the crown. The science further taught 
him that though Edward oF the Sanctuary 
would never actually be king, she, Elizabeth 
of York, would, assuredly, one day be queen.*' 
ix. The king, however, did not act as if he 
put any faith in his own prediction, but took 
as good heed to his education and training as 
if he desired to render him worthy of " the 
garland of the realm." He was only three years 
of age when Edward drew up letters of in- 
struction to his governors, the Earl Elvers 
and the Bishop of Eochester, expressing him- 
self as very anxious for the establishment of 
a serious and moral rule in the prince's house- 
hold. He commanded that young Edward 
should rise every morning at a suitable hour, 
and no man have access to him until he had 
risen, except the Earl, his chaplains, and 
bodv-servants : that matins having: been said 
in his presence, he should then attend mass 
in his chapel or closet ; that on every holy 



AN EDUCATIONAL THEORY. 233 

day lie was to offer before the altar; that 
between breakfast and dinner his time was to 
be employed in study ; that no man should 
sit at his board of loose or immoral character; 
that all conversation in his presence should 
turn upon virtue, honour, knowledge, wis- 
dom, and deeds of worship ; that after his 
meat, in eschewing of idleness, he be occu- 
pied about his learning and then be shown 
all such convenient disports and exercises as 
behoved his estate to have experience of; 
that the time between even-song and supper 
should be devoted to innocent pastime ; and 
that the prince should retire to his bedcham- 
ber, and all "night livery'^ be set, and the 
travers (or curtain) drawn anon upon eight of 
the clock ; and all persons from thence to be 
avoided, except such as shall be deputed aad 
appointed to give their attendance upon him 
all night ; and that they enforce themselves 
to make him merry and joyous towards his 
bed." 

X. A further code of laws was entrusted 
to the discretion both of the Earl and the 
Bishop, and directed that the officers of the 
household should attend mass at six o^clock 
every morning ; matins in the chapel, at 



234 EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARY. 

seven ; and a mass sung by children, at nine. 
Three chaplains were appointed to posts 
about the prince, one as general confessor, 
one as mass priest, and the third as almoner. 
Persons given to foul speech or lewd conduct, 
of vicious lives or brawling manners, were 
strictly forbidden the youthful presence, on 
the wise old principle of the Latins, Maxima 
reverentia dehetur pueris^ and fit companion- 
ship was provided for him, and those youths 
honoured by association with the prince were 
placed like him under the gravest restrictions. 
" We will,'' says the king, " that the sons of 
noble lords and gentlemen being in the house- 
hold with our said son, arise at a convenient 
hour, and hear their mass, and be virtuously 
brought up, and taught in grammar, music, 
or other training exercises of humanity, ac- 
cording to their births and after their ages, 
and in no wise to be suffered in idleness, or in 
unvirtuous occupation." They breakfasted at 
ten ; dined at four ; and supped about seven. 
The palace-gates were closed from September 
to May, at nine in the evening, but one hour 
later during the bright months of summer. 
No person was admitted before six, or after 
the gates were closed, without proving a cause 



HIS EARLY YEARS. 235 

SO reasonable as to entitle him to a licence 
from some member of the princess council. 
And, indeed, every precaution was taken that 
the jealous care of a fond and ambitious father, 
himself experienced in all the miry ways of the 
world, could suggest as likely to protect his 
son from even the very knowledge of evil. 

xi. The marriage of the young prince's 
Brother, Eichard, Duke of York, with Anne 
Mowbray, the infant heiress of the proud 
house of Norfolk, took place in January, 1477, 
and among the illustrious personages present 
at the ceremony was Edward, Prince of Wales, 
then in his seventh year. He afterwards 
partook of the luxurious banquet " laid out 
in the Painted Chamber.'' A more interest- 
ing incident in his brief career was his intro- 
duction to the printer William Caxton, whose 
most liberal and steadfast patron was the 
prince's uncle and governor. Earl Eivers. A 
richly illuminated MS., in the collection of 
the Archbishops of Canterbury, represents 
the illustrious printer ushered by Earl Eivers 
into the presence of King Edward and Queen 
Elizabeth, who are seated in chairs of state, 
with their son, a lovely boy, whose head is 



236 EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARY. 

crowned with golden curls, standing between 
them. 

xii. The young heir of York received in- 
vestiture of the Principality of Wales, with 
the usual ceremony, in 1477, but he was al- 
ready in receipt of its revenues, and of those 
of his Duchy of Cornwall and county of 
Cheshire, their administration being confided 
to three trustees, — the Queen, Earl Elvers, 
and the Bishop of Rochester. On this me- 
morable occasion, and in accordance with 
ancient prescription " many young lords and 
gentlemen of principal name were made 
Knights of the Bath, among whooa Brian, 
Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, and Lit- 
tleton, that learned father of the laws, are 
registered/' A glorious revel duly concluded 
the ceremonials of the festive day — a day so 
dear to the proud heart and ambitious hopes 
of Queen Elizabeth Woodville, who thus be- 
held her son seated in the seat of the sons of 
the kings of England. 

xiii. In 1483, the Prince of Wales was de- 
spatched to Ludlow Castle to administer the 
government of the Principality, and pacify 
by his gentle boyish presence the turbulent 



THE BOY-PRINCE. 237 

souls of the rebellious Welsh. And as the 
descendants of Cadwallader have always been 
very affectionate to those princes who have 
borne the title of their Principality, as being 
memorials of their ancient liberty and do- 
minion, to the boy-prince of thirteen years 
they showed more obedience than ever they 
had been known to render to their ancient 
magistrates. The king, however, had not 
trusted wholly to his son's graceful looks and 
gentle address, but surrounded him with wise 
and experienced councillors, and specially, 
Earl Eivers, his governor, and Vaughan, his 
chamberlain, whose prudent measures con- 
tributed largely to the temporary pacification 
of the Principality. 

xiv. The prince was at Ludlow Castle when 
his father died — April 9th, 1483 — and was 
removed to London in the charge of Earl 
Rivers, and attended by a few of his house- 
hold servants. Queen Elizabeth, who pre- 
sided at the first council held after her hus- 
band's death, had proposed that he should be 
escorted to his capital by a powerful body of 
troops, but, unfortunately, Lord Hastings, a 
bitter foe to the aspiring Woodvilles, took 
umbrage at the suggestion. He would retire 



238 EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARY. 

from court, lie declared, if the young king 
was brought to London surrounded by sol- 
diers. Who were his foes ? Against whom 
was the sovereign to be defended ? Not 
against his valiant uncle Gloucester ! Not 
against Stanley — surely, not against himself! 
Was not this proposed force rather destined 
to confirm the power of her kindred, and 
enable them to violate the oaths of amity they 
had so lately sworn by the death-bed of their 
royal master ? The Queen, in tears, retracted 
her proposition, for though she foreboded 
evil to herself and her children, she little 
imagined from what quarter that evil would 
proceed. Her suspicions were directed against 
Hastings and the proud aristocracy who had 
so often launched their gibes and sneers at 
the " mushroom Wood villes," and neither she 
nor her council apprehended any danger from 
the treachery or ambition of the crafty Glou- 
cester, who had not of late mingled in court 
intrigues, and was at that moment absent at 
his government of the Scottish marches. 
When the Duke received information of the 
death of his royal brother, he immediately 
caused Edward the 5th to be proclaimed as 
king, at York, and addressed to the Queen a 



RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER. 239 

letter, so fall of affectionate condolences and 
deferential counsel, that she imagined in her 
brother-in-law she had found a loyal friend 
and a faithful adviser. Elizabeth, and her 
council, therefore, finally commanded Earl 
Eivers to bring the young king to London 
unattended by his Welsh soldiery, and thus 
unintentionally cleared the principal obstacle 
from the path of Richard of Gloucester's crafty 
and sanguinary ambition.* 

XV. Meanwhile, the Duke set out from 
York, attended by a numerous train of the 
northern gentry ; and at Northampton was 
joined by the Duke of Buckingham, who was 
also followed by a brilliant retinue. As he 
was avvare the king was hourly expected on 
that road, he resolved to wait his arrival un- 
der the pretence of conducting him in person 
to London. But the Earl Rivers, fearing that 
Northampton was too small a town suitably 
to accommodate so large and distinguished an 
assemblage, sent the young sovereign forward 
by another road to Stony Stratford, and went 
himself to Northampton to apologise for this 
proceeding, and to pay his respects to the 

* Carte. 



24:0 EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARY. 

King's uncle.* That accomplished master of 
the craft of Kings received him with the 
warmest cordiality, and entertained him at 
supper with Buckingham and himself. The 
next day Rivers proceeded with them to join 
the king, but as he was entering Stony Strat- 
ford, was arrested by Gloucester's orders. Sir 
Richard Grey, one of the Queen's sons, by her 
first husband, was at the same time put un- 
der a guard, and Sir Thomas Vaug^han, 
Edward's faithful and devoted chamberlain. 
Having disposed of these obstructions, Glou- 
cester was able to take possession unopposed 
of the person of the Boy-King. He ap- 
proached him, however, with every demon- 
stration of respect and deference, and 
endeavoured to excuse the violence he had 
committed on his councillors and attendants. 
But Edward, a youth of warm affections and 
ingenuous disposition, was ill able to conceal 
the anger he felt at an outrage he was power- 
less to avenge. 

xvi. It was at midnight, on the 3rd of 
May, that Elizabeth received information of 
these startling events, which at once revealed 

* Holinshed. 



IN THE SANCTUARY. 241 

to her the depths of Gloucester's duplicitj 
and the true character of his ambitious pro- 
jects. Bat remembering that while her 
second son was in safety, the joung King's 
life would be secure, inasmuch as his murder 
would profit Gloucester nothing while another 
legitimate heir to the crown remained, she 
took the Duke of York, and her daughters, 
and went out of the Palace of Westminster 
into the Sanctuary, and there lodged in the 
Abbot's place, and she, and all her children 
and company, were registered as sanctuary 
persons. 

'' Before day broke, the lord chancellor, 
then Archbishop Rotherham (of York), who 
lived in York-place, beside Westminster 
Abbey, having received the news of the Duke 
of Gloucester's proceedings, called up his ser- 
vants, and took with him the great seal and 
went to the Queen, about whom he found 
much heaviness, rumble, haste, and business, 
with conveyance of her [household] stuff into 
sanctuary. Every man was busy to carry, 
bear, and convey household stuffs, chests, and 
fardels ; no man was unoccupied, and some 

VOL. I. M 



242 EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARY. 

walked ofiP, witli more than they were directed, 
to other places/^"' 

xvii. The Archbishop found the Queen 
sitting on the rushes in dismay. Her long, 
fair hair, so renowned for its beauty, having 
escaped from its confinement, was streaming 
over her person even to the ground. He 
sought to relieve her sorrow with a cheering 
message which he had received from Lord 
Hastings. '' Ah, woe worth him !" exclaimed 
Elizabeth, " for it is he that goeth about to 
destroy me and my blood." — " Madam," said 
the Archbishop, " be of good comfort. I 
assure you, if they crown any other king than 
your eldest son, whom they have with them, 
we will on the morrow crown his brother, 
whom you have with you here. And here is 
the great seal, which in like wise as your 
noble husband gave it to me, so I deliver it 
to you for the use of your son." And with 
these words he gave up the great seal to the 
Queen, and departed from her in the dawning 
of the day ; and when he opened his window, 
and looked forth on the Thames, he saw the 
river covered with boats full of the Duke of 

* Hall. 



MURDER OF LORD HASTINGS. 243 

Gloucester's servants, watching that no one 
might go to the Queen's asylum. 

xviii. Edward the Fifth, attended bj Glou- 
cester's minions, all in deep mourning for the 
late monarch, entered London on the 4th of 
May, and after a stay at the Bishop of Ely's 
palace, near Hatton Garden, became a tenant 
of the regal apartments in the Tower. The 
sovereign thus secured, it was now Glouces- 
ter's object to obtain possession of the person 
of Richard, Duke of York, in which he suc- 
ceeded by an artifice to be described in our 
next chapter. He still continued to amuse 
the Yorkists by urging on the preparation for 
the young king's coronation, and it was not 
until he held his famous council in the Tower, 
on the 13th of June, that he finally threw off 
the mask. Then, finding Hastings unshakenly 
loyal to the house of York, he denounced him 
as in league with the sorceresses, Queen 
Elizabeth Woodville and Jane Shore, the late 
king's mistress, and baring his shrunken and 
withered arm, declared it was the effect of 
their magical arts. " You are the chief 
abetter," he cried, "of that witch Shore! you 
are yourself a traitor: and I swear by St. 

M 2 



244 EDWARD OF THE SANCTUARY. 

Paul that I will not dine before your head be 
brought to me !" Armed men rushed into the 
chamber, and hurrying off Hastings he was 
instantly beheaded on a timber log which lay 
in the court of the Tower. Lord Stanley, the 
Archbishop of York, the Bishop of Ely, and 
other loyal adherents to the youthful sove- 
reign's cause were at the same time seized and 
cast into prison. 

xix. Gloucester's next movement was to 
prove the queen's marriage invalid, and her 
issue illegitimate, by reason of a prior marriage 
which Edward the Fourth had secretly con- 
tracted; an alliance with Lady Eleanor Talbot, 
daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury ; and as 
ambition is never in lack of tools, he contrived 
that a petition should be presented to him 
praying him to take heed that the crown did 
not fall to the issue of the pretended marriage 
between King Edward and Lady Elizabeth 
Gray, '' made without the assent of the lords 
of the land, and by the sorcery of the said 
Elizabeth and her mother Faquette (as the 
public voice is through the land), privily and 
secretly in a chamber, without proclama- 
tion by banns according to the laudable cus- 



RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK. 245 

torn of the church of England." At Crosby 
Hall, on the 26th, Richard was recognised as 
king ; ten days later his coronation followed, 
at which Edward the Fifth was compelled to 
be present, and the royal children were 
removed to the Portcullis tower that 
their uncle might occupy the regal apart- 
ments. Of their murder, which was consum- 
mated by Eichard's brutal myrmidons during 
his progress to the north, we shall speak at 
length in the following chapter. 



CHAPTER V. 



RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK, SECOND SON OF 
EDWARD IV. 



[Authorities :—Sir Thomas More; Hall, Harding, Holinshed 
Baker ; Carte's History of England ; Lingard ; Eachard ; Ward- 
robe Accounts of Edward IV., edited by Sir Harris Nicolas 
etc., etc.] 



CHAPTER V. 



RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK, SECOND SON OF 
EDWARD IV. 

0, 'tis a parlous boy, 
Bold, quick, ingenuous, capable: 
He's all the mother's, from the top to toe. 

Shakspeake. 

Look back with me unto the Tower, 
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes. 
Whom envy hath immured within your walls ! 
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones ! 
Rude, ragged nurse ! old sullen playfellow 
For tender princes, use my babies well. 

Ibid. 

i. [n Shakspeare's noble historical drama 
of the Wars of the Roses, as divided into the 
plays of " Henry VL," and " Richard the 
Third,^' few scenes are replete with a tenderer 
pathos than those which bring upon the tragic 
stage the two princely sons of Edward the 
Fourth, and Elizabeth Woodville. The great 

M 5 



250 RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK. 

dramatist lias painted their different charac- 
ters with his wonted discrimination ; Edward, 
gentle, meek, and loving, of gracious address 
and lowlj speech ; Eichard of York, quick, 
impetuous, and spirited, with a keen wit and 
a clear judgment. And the popular mind has 
taken up the poet's presentation. For the 
English people, Edward the 5th and his bro- 
ther are what Shakspeare has depicted them ; 
their fate is the fate so touchingly described 
in his immortal verse ; and no " Historic 
Doubts"put forward by the ingenious Walpole, 
no elaborate apology prepared by the pains- 
taking Burke, will blot out from their remem- 
brance the murder of the two princes at the 
instigation of the English Borgia, Eichard 
the II . 

ii. Eichard, Duke of York, so named after 
his illustrious grandfather, was born at 
Shrewsbury, in the spring of 1472, when his 
father ruled England with an undisputed 
sway. Of his earlier years the details which 
have come down to us are neither many nor 
interesting, but we can easily believe that he 
was bred up in the midst of the pomp and 
splendour suitable to a son of England, and 
that his father exercised as much care in 



A BOY-BRIDEGROOM. 251 

ordering his household and directing his 
mental training as in the case of his elder 
brother, Edward of the Sanctuary. He was 
scarcely five years old when he figured as prin- 
cipal actor in the serio-comedy of the marriage 
of Anne Mowbray, the infant heiress of the 
Duke of York. The bride was scarcely three 
years old, the bridegroom five. The cere- 
mony was performed with sumptuous state in 
St. Stephen's chapel, in the presence of the 
king, the Prince of Wales, the Princesses 
Elizabeth, Mary, and Cicely, and a glittering 
show of lords and ladies. Neither bride nor 
bridegroom lived to repeat their nuptials at a 
maturer age; their premature deaths seem- 
ing to verify the old English proverb, "Early 
wed, earl J dead." 

iii. The year which witnessed the young 
prince's marriage also beheld the investiture 
of his brother with the principality of Wales, 
and was likewise marked by the unjust con- 
demnation of his uncle, the Duke of Clarence. 
Richard, now Duke of York, appears, from 
this time, to have assumed a very luxurious 
state, and we read of his gowns of purple and 
green velvet, green damask, and white cloth 
of gold ] of his mantle of blue velvet, lined 



252 EICHAED, DUKE OF YORK. 

■with white damask, and garnished with a garter 
of ruddeur ; of the green cloth of gold which 
covered his harness and saddle ; and of other 
decorations for himself and his " belongings/' 
which must have been very beautiful and 
grand to see ! 

iv. The death of Edward the IV., in April, 
1483, cast a sudden shadow on the previously 
unclouded lustre of his son's career. When 
the Duke of Gloucester's seizure of the person 
of Edward the V. revealed to the widowed 
Elizabeth the depth of that subtle plotter's 
nefarious designs, she hastened to carry the 
boy-duke, and his sisters, to the secure shelter 
of the Sanctuary. He was at this time eleven 
years old. The Princess Elizabeth, after- 
wards Queen of Henry VII., was seventeen ; 
the Princess Cicely, in her fifteenth year ; Anne 
was about eight ; Katherine nearly four ; and 
Bridget, three. They were not long per- 
mitted by the Protector to remain undis- 
turbed in their holy asylum. It was essential 
for the success of his bold ambition that both 
the sons of Edward IV. should be in his 
power, and for this purpose he moved the 
peers at a council held in the Star Chamber, 
contiguous to the Sanctuary, that Elizabeth 



A MEDIATOB. 253 

should be compelled to deliver up the Duke 
of York. A stormy debate ensued. Richard 
represented to the council that an indignity 
was put upon the Government by the Queen's 
ill-founded apprehensions, and that it was 
absolutely needful the young prince should 
be present at the approaching coronation of 
his brother. But the ecclesiastical dignita- 
ries, and especially the two primates of Can- 
terbury and York, maintained that Sanctuary 
was inviolate and to employ force was sacri- 
legious. It was, nevertheless, resolved that 
'' there might be sanctuary men and women, 
but as children could commit no crime for 
which an asylum was need, the privileges of 
sanctuary could not extend to theni : there- 
fore the Duke of Gloucester, who was now 
recognised as Lord Protector, could possess 
himself of his nephew by force if he pleased.' ' 
The Archbishop of Canterbury, unwilling 
that force should be employed, now offered 
his mediation with the Queen. " He would 
do his best endeavour," he said, " to persuade 
her ; but if he could not, he then thought it 
was not to be attempted against her will, for 
that it would turn to the high displeasure of 
God if the privilege of that holy place should 



254 RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK. 

now be broken, which had so many years been 
inviolably kept, which both kings and popes 
so good had granted, so many had confirmed, 
and which holy gromid was, more than five 
hundred years ago, by St. Peter in his own 
person, accompanied with great numbers of 
angels, by night, so specially hallowed and 
dedicated to God ; and fi)r proof thereof, 
there is yet in the Abbey St. Peter's cope to 
shew ; that from that time hitherward, there 
never was so undevout a king that durst 
violate that sacred place ; nor so holy a bishop 
that durst presume to consecrate it, and there- 
fore (he said) God forbid that any man, for 
any earthly thing, should enterprise to break 
the liberty and immunity of that sacred 
sanctuary : and I trust with God's grace, we 
shall not need it, at least, my endeavours 
shall not be w^ anting ; if the mother's dread 
and womanish fear be not the let." 

V. The interview between the primate, the 
deputation of peers that accompanied him, 
and Queen Elizabeth, was one of the most 
painful character. In vain the Archbishop 
urged that the young king required the com- 
pany of his brother, being melancholy with- 
out a playfellow. The Queen replied, 



THE queem's appeal. 255 

" Troweth the Protector — ah, pray God he 
may prove a Protector — that the king doth 
lack a playfellow? Can none be found to 
play with the king but only his brother, who 
hath no wish to play, because he is sick ? as 
though princes, so young as they be, could not 
play without their peers, — or children could 
not play without their kindred, with whom 
(for the most part) they agree worse than with 
strangers !'^ But the primate and his brother- 
nobles renewing their solicitations, the dis- 
traught woman yielded what the sovereign 
would have refused, and taking the boy-duke 
by the hand, she exclaimed, '' Lo, here is this 
gentleman, who I doubt not would be safely 
kept by me, if I were permitted ; and well do 
I know there be some such deadly enemies to 
my blood, that, if they wist where any lay in 
their own bodies, they would let it out if they 
could. The desire of a kingdom knoweth no 
kindred: brothers have been brothers' bane, 
and may the nephews be sure of the uncle? 
Each of these children are safe while they be 
asunder. Notwithstanding, I here deliver 
him, and his brother's life with him, into your 
hands, and of you I shall require them before 
God and man. Faithful be ye, I wot well, 



256 RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK. 

and power he liave, if he list, to keep them 
safe ; but if he think I fear too much, yet be- 
ware ye fear not too little !'' And then, em- 
bracing her child, she continued, " Farewell, 
my own sweet son ! God send you safe 
keeping ! Let me kiss you once ere you go, 
for God knoweth when we shall kiss together 
again !" So with many kisses and caresses, 
she turned from him and wept ; and the young 
"prince, loudly sobbing, was led out of the pre- 
sence of the mother he was never asrain to 

o 

embrace. 

vi. The tragedy of the murder of the two 
princes took place in that part of the old for- 
tress-palace of London which is traditionally 
named the Bloody Tower. They were re- 
moved to this building when King Richard 
took possession, on the 4th of July, of the 
regal apartments which they had previously 
tenanted. All liberty of egress was now 
denied them, and all their attendants were 
removed but one, whose nickname sufficiently 
indicates the reason why he was retained — 
Black Will, or Will Slaughter, who was set 
to serve them, and four keepers to guard 
them. The young king was heard to say, 
sighingly, " I would mine uncle would let me 



A FOUL DEED. 257 

have my life, thougli he taketh my crown/' 
''After which time, he never tied his points, nor 
anything attended to himself; but with that 
young babe his brother, lingered in thought 
and heaviness till the traitorous deed deli- 
vered them from wretchedness/' 

vii. The chief mover in this foul tragedy 
was Sir James Tyrrel, vice-constable of Eng- 
land under Edward IV., who had attached" 
himself to Eichard's person, and proved a fit 
agent for the accomplishment of his murderous 
schemes. As Richard progressed to the north, 
where his chief strength lay, and where he 
was desirous to preserve his popularity, he 
despatched this Sir James Tyrrel from War- 
wick to destroy the royal children, and Sir 
Robert Brakenbury,the constable of the Tower, 
having previously refused participation in so 
black a crime, he now therefore received per- 
emptory orders to give up the keys of his for- 
tress for one night to Richard's emissary. He 
associated with him in the foul task three fel- 
lows of evil character, Slaughter, Dighton, and 
Forrest — the latter, one of the princes' keepers, 
" a fellow flesh-bred in murder ;" Dighton, one 
of his own varlets, '' a big, broad, square 
knave." "All their other attendants being re- 



258 RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK. 

moved from them/' says Sir Thomas More, 
" and the harmless children in bed, these men 
came into their chamber and suddenly lapping 
them in the clothes, smothered and stifled 
them till thoroughly dead: then laying out 
their bodies in the bed, they fetched Sir James 
to see them, who caused the murderers to bury 
them at the stair foot, deep in the ground 
under a heap of stones. Then rode Sir James 
in great haste to King Eichard and showed 
him the manner of the murder, who gave him 
great thanks, but allowed not their burial in 
so vile a corner, but would have them buried 
in consecrated ground. Sir Robert Braken- 
bury's priest then took them up, and where 
he buried them was never known, for he died 
directly afterwards. But when the news was 
j&rst brought to the unfortunate mother, yet 
being in sanctuary, that her two sons were 
murdered, it struck to her heart like the sharp 
dart of death ; she was so suddenly amazed, 
that she swooned and fell to the ground, and 
there lay in great agony, yet like to a dead 
corpse. And after she revived and came to 
her memory again she wept and sobbed, and 
with pitiful screeches filled the whole mansion. 
Her breast she beat, her fair hair she tore and 



k 



A CRUEL MURDER. 259 

pulled in pieces, and calling by name her 
sweet babes accounted herself mad when she 
delivered her younger son out of sanctuary, 
for his uncle to put him to death. After long 
lamentation she kneeled down and cried to 
God to take vengeance, ' who,' she said, ' she 
nothing doubted would remember it;' and 
when, in a few months, Eichard unexpectedly 
lost his only son, the child for whose ad- 
vancement he had steeped his soul in crime, 
Englishmen declared that the imprecations of 
the agonized mother had been heard.'' 

viii. Baker the historian relates the circum- 
stances in the following fashion : — " Sir James 
Tyrrel," he says, " being now lieutenant for 
the time, and having the two innocent princes 
under his custody, gets two others as very 
villains as himself, the one Miles Forest, the 
other James Dighton, his horse-keeper, big 
sturdy knaves, and these he made his under 
agents, who coming into the children's cham- 
ber in the night (for they were suffered to have 
none about them but one Black Will or Wil- 
liam Staughton,'"' a bloody rascal), they sud- 
denly lapped them up in their clothes, and 

* i. e.— Slaughter. 



?60 RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK. 

keeping down by force the feather bed and 
pillows hard under their mouths, so stifled 
them, that their breaths failing they gave up 
their innocent souls to God.'^ The vengeance 
which the sonless queen implored upon her 
children's murderers actually overtook them» 
"Miles Forest, at St. Martin's-le-Grand, 
piece-meal rotted away; Dighton lived at 
Callice a long time after, but detested of all 
men died in great misery ; Sir James Tyrrel 
was beheaded afterwards on Tower Hill for 
treason ; and King Eichard himself, after this 
abominable fact was done never had a quiet 
mind, troubled with fearful dreams, and would 
sometimes in the night start out of his bed 
and run about the chamber in great fright, as 
if all the furies of hell were hanging about 
him.'' 

viii. It may interest the reader to compare 
the Shakspearian narrative with the quotations 
we have given from the old historians. The 
poet represents Sir James Tyrrel as saying — 

" The tyrannous and bloody act is done ; 
The most arch deed of piteous massacre, 
That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn 
To do this piece of ruthless butchery, 



THE MUEDER DOUBTED. 261 



Albeit they were flesh 'd villains, bloody dogs ! 

Melting with tenderness and wild compassion, 

Wept like two children, in their death's sad story. 

thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle tabes. 

Thus, thus ! quoth Forest, girdling one another 

Within their alabaster innocent arms, 

Their lips mere four red roses on a stalk, 

Which, in their summer beauty hissed each other. 

A booh of prayers on their pillows lay. 

Which once, quoth Forest, almost changed my minj, ; 

But 0, the devil ! there the villain stopp'd ; 

When Dighton thus told on, — we smothered 

The most resplenished sweet work of nature, 

That from the prime creation, e'er she framed. 

Hence both are gone ; with conscience and remorse, 

They could not speak, and so I left them both 

To bear this tidings to the bloody king." 

Richard III., Act iv.. Scene 3. 



ix. Certain ingenious writers have endea- 
voured to cast a doubt upon the fact of this 
terrible incident, and have contended that the 
bones discovered in the Tower, and supposed 
to be those of the royal children, could not 
have been so, because Eichard III. exhumed 
them from the first place of sepulture, and bj 
a singular act of remorseful conscience caused 
them to be buried in consecrated ground. The 
priest of the Tower, to whom this duty was 
entrusted, selected as a suitable spot the en- 
trance to his own chapel, but as he died soon 
after the removal of the bodies, the last rest- 



262 RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK. 

ing place remained unknown, till, in the reign 
of Charles II., the chapel was converted into 
a record office, and the skeletons of the two 
ill-fated princes discovered (A.D. 1664). The 
particulars of the murder were revealed by 
Tyrrel himself previous to his execution in 
1502. 



CHAPTEE VI, 



PRINCE EDWARD OP MIDDLEHAM, SON OF 
RICHARD III. 



[Authorities : — Hall's Unitie of the Houses of York and Lan- 
caster, cont. by Grafton ; Baker, Holinshed ; Carte, Eachard, 
and Lingard's History of England ; Chronicle of Croyland (the 
continuation) ; Sir Thomas More's History of Edward IV., 
Edward V., and Richard III. ; Burke's Richard III., etc.] 



CHAPTER VL 



PRINCE EDWARD OF MIDDLEHAM, SON OP 
RICHARD III. 



Death lies on him, like an untimely frost, 
Upon the sweetest flow'r of all the field. 

Shakspeare. 

i. " Truth is strange — stranger still tlian 
fiction/' and there are many romantic pas- 
sages in English history which exceed in 
depth of colour and force of contrast, in varied 
interest and concentrated passion, all the 
fictions conceived by the fertile brain of the 
novelist or the vivid imagination of the poet. 
And when monarchs and heroes, knights and 
beauties, are the actors ; wdien the council 
chamber, the battle-field, and the prison are 
the scenes *, why should not the actual historic 
drama surpass in rapidity of movement and 
subtilty of meaning the mimic tragedy which 
is enacted before the foot-lights ? No fancy 

VOL. I. If 



266 EDWARD OF MIDDLEHAM. 

can invent a series of incidents more surpris- 
ing in character than the occurrences recorded 
bj the historian, and the life of a nation is 
assuredly as full of change and marvel as the 
life of anj ideal hero or imaginary personage, 
who figures in epic or novel. Thus, the most 
inveterate admirer of fiction, whose eyes are 
filled with tears at the love-passages of 
Pamela or the sufferings of Caleb Williams, 
may well be invited to sympathise with the 
strange story of Anne of Warwick, the fair 
daughter of the great " King-Maker," and the 
love-romance of that man of ruthless ambition 
and sui-passing political capacity, Eichard of 
Gloucester, King of England. It relieves 
the lurid grandeur of the English Borgia^ s 
career with a gleam of human feeling, and 
the passionate affection which the fond father 
lavished upon his son redeems our common 
nature from the imputation his dark, sad life 
of crime might have cast upon it. 

ii. Anne of Warwick, the last of the Plan- 
tagenet Queens, was born at Warwick Castle, 
in the year 1454. She was the younger of 
the two daughters, whom Anne, the heiress 
of the Beauchamps, bore to the king-making 
Earl of Warwick. It was her peculiar destiny 




1 



.1 



THE GENTLE ANNE. 267 

to receive the offer of the consort's crown of 
England from the two rival houses of York 
and Lancaster ; from Prince Edward of Lan- 
caster, the son of Henrj VI., and Richard the 
IIL, son of Richard, Duke of York. During 
Warwick's long alliance with the Yorkists, 
Anne was frequently brought into contact 
with the youthful Richard, and they were 
companions, and perhaps play fellows, when 
he was fourteen, and she twelve years old. 
At that early age the boy-duke pressed his 
love suit upon the gentle Anne, but neither in 
his person nor his disposition was there aught 
to attract her fancy, or induce her to smile 
favourably upon it. Her love was soon after- 
wards won bv the handsome and PTacious 
Prince Edward, the hope of Lancaster, and 
when deep wrongs constrained Warwick to 
make peace with Margaret of Anjou, and 
swear fealty to Henry the Vl., the youthful 
twain were wedded at Angers, in August, 
1470. Their married life was a brief one. 
Edward was slain on the fatal field of Tewkes- 
bury, May 4th, 1471, and soon afterwards 
Anne's person was taken charge of by her 
sister's husband, the Duke of Clarence, 

N 2 • 



268 EDWARD OF MIDDLEHAM. 

Clarence was aware of his brother of Glou- 
cester's passion for the fair young widow, but 
unwilling that the united inheritance of War- 
wick and Salisbury, of which she was a co- 
heiress, should be divided, he aided her by 
every means in his power to avoid discovery. 
So the Lady Anne stooped from her high but 
perilous state as Princess of Wales to assume 
the disguise of a servant, and labour menially 
in the house of a London citizen of mean 
repute. For nearly two years the subtle craft 
of Gloucester was unable to track her to her 
hiding-place, but he was not one to be easily 
bafEed, — no man of light purpose to abandon 
a cherished scheme because he met with let or 
hindrance — and, at last, his persevering exer- 
tions were crowned with success. She was 
found, this daughter of Warwick and Princess 
of Wales ! '' under the disguise of a cookmaid 
in the City of London,' ' and quickly trans- 
ferred to the Sanctuary of St. Martin' s-le- 
Grand. From thence she was removed to 
the protection of her uncle George, Arch- 
bishop of York, and even allowed to visit and 
console Margaret of Anjou, then a prisoner 
in the Tower; but as she was still most 



AN INFORMAL MARRIAGE. 269 

resolute in her refusal to marry Richard, these 
indulgences were speedily withdrawn. 

iii. Some weary months passed by, and 
finally the woman's resolve yielded before the 
man's sterner purpose. In March, 1473, she 
was wedded to Richard at Westminster, and 
soon afterwards, the King in council made 
an award by which the lands of Beauchamp 
and Warwick were portioned between him 
and his brother Clarence. It would seem 
that the marriage was attended by some in- 
formality, for in the following year an act of 
Parliament was passed, which empowered the 
Duke of Gloucester to continue the full posses- 
sion and enjoyment of Anne's property, even 
if she were to divorce him^ provided he did 
his best to be reconciled and re-married to 
her ; a clause which, as Miss Strickland ob- 
serves, seems to imply that reasons existed for 
a divorce should Anne determine on ridding 
herself of the husband she loathed. The infor- 
malities, it is probable, originated in the want 
of the proper bulls to authorise the marriage 
of such near relations ; and, " as the free con- 
sent of both bride and bridegroom was an 
indispensable preliminary to such dispensation, 
the absence of these legal instruments nega- 



270 EPWAED OF MIDDLEHAM. 

tively prove that the unfortunate Anne of 
Warwick never consented to her second mar- 
riage.'' 

iv. Eichard and the wife so long wooed, so 
unwillingly wed, resided chiefly at Middleham 
Castle, in Yorkshire, an abode convenient for 
the office borne by the Duke as Governor of 
the Northern Marches. It formed a part of 
his wife's dowry, and tradition relates that in 
their early youth they had spent much time 
together under its ancient roof. Here was 
born, in 1474, their only child, Edward, 
generally surnamed " of Middleham '* from 
the place of his birth. From this period 
there is reason to believe that the Lady Anne 
was more reconciled to her lot, and that the fair 
sweet boy became a bond of union between 
her and her astute husband. Nor does there 
exist any ground for the suspicion put forward 
by some authorities that Richard soon grew 
weary of his wife, or treated her with any 
lack of courtesy and affection. 

V. For nine years the current of Edward's 
young existence flowed on undisturbed. His 
father was displaying his military ability and 
administrative genius in his campaigns in 
Scotland, winning several victories and cap-. 



FOR MY LORD THE PRINCE. 271 

turmg Edinburgh ; recovering the town and 
castle of Berwick, which Margaret of Anjou 
had sold to the Scots ; and founding several 
religious and charitable houses in the neigh- 
bourhood of Middleham. Meanwhile, the 
princely Edward was growing in healthful 
grace and delicate beauty, and occupied his 
mother's heart with all the cares of an absorb- 
ing affection. '' Eichard's household book at 
Middleham affords some notitia regarding the 
son of Anne of Warwick, during his father's 
absence. Geoffrj Frank is allowed 22s. 9d. 
for green cloth, and Is. 8d. for making it into 
gowns for my lord prince and Mr. Neville ; 
5s« for choosing a king of West- Wilton, in 
some frolic of rush-bearing, and 5s. for a 
feather for my lord prince ; and Dirick, shoe- 
maker, had 13s. Id. for his shoes; and Jane 
Collins, his nurse, 100s. for her year's wages. 
Among the expenses which seem to have 
occurred on the progress of the young prince 
up to London, on the occasion of the corona- 
tion of his parents, are his offerings at Foun- 
tain's Abbey, and other religious houses. For 
mending his whip 2d., and 6s. 8d. to two of 
his men, Medcalf and Peacok, for running on 
foot by the side of his carriage." 



272 • EDWARD OF MIDDLEHAM. 

vi. In July, 1483, Edward and Ms mother 
were summoned to London to share with 
Eichard the pomps and luxuries of royalty. 
Their progress was a brilliant, and withal a 
pious one, for they offered alms at every 
shrine that Jay in or near their road. Early 
in July they arrived in London, and took up 
their abode at Baynard's Castle, the house of 
Queen Elizabeth Woodville, from whence they 
were conducted, on Sunday, the 4th, — the 
principal figures of a splendid river-pageant, 
— to the Tower. The same day Edward of 
Middleham was created Prince of Wales. On 
the morrow, a grand procession of the king, 
and queen, and prince, with their heralds, 
nobles, knights, and pages, and four thousand 
of Eichard' s stout Northern soldiery, passed 
through the city to Westminster, where the 
king and queen were duly crowned, the 
ceremonial being of unusual splendour. They 
then removed to Windsor Castle, where 
Eichard left her, and went on a progress 
through the principal towns of his kingdom, 
ending at Tewkesbury. While at Windsor, 
the Spanish ambassador had an audience of 
the sovereigns to propose a marriage between 
the young prince Edward and Isabella, daugh- 



A ROYAL JOURNEY. 273 

ter of Ferdinand, King of Castile and Arragon. 
Isabella was the eldest of four daughters, the 
youngest of whom was that Katherine of 
Arragon, who ultimately married the two 
sons of Henry the Seventh, Eichard's con- 
queror, — Arthur Prince of Wales, and Henry 
Duke of York, afterwards so famous as Henry 
the Eight. 

vii. The Queen and her son now com- 
menced a splendid progress, in which they 
were attended by prelates and peers, and the 
Spanish ambassador. They finally rested at 
Warwick Castle, the place of Anne's birth, 
and the seat of her father's feudal magnificence, 
where they were joined by King Richard, and 
for a week held there a most regal state. 
Next they passed on through Coventry to 
York, where they arrived on the 31st of 
August, and where a second coronation was 
celebrated, and Prince Edward re-invested 
Prince of Wales. " The overflowing pater- 
nity of Richard," says Strickland, '' which, 
perhaps, urged him to commit some of his 
crimes, thus speaks in his patents for creating 
his son Prince of Wales : ^ Whose singular 
wit and endowments of nature, wherewith 

N 5 



274 EDWARD OF MIDDLEHAM. 

(his young age considered) he is remarkably 
furnished, do portend, by the favour of God, 
that he will make an honest man.' " 

viii. After the coronation ceremonial was 
ended, Queen Anne proceeded through the 
streets of York, holding her little son by the 
hand. He wore the demi-cro wn o f Prince of 
Wales, and glittered with jewels and cloth of 
gold. From York the gay pageant moved to 
Pontefi'act, where Richard received tidings of 
the Duke of Buckingham's formidable out- 
break. Sending his son for safety to Middle- 
ham, the Warrior-King, accompanied by 
Queen inline, set out in all haste for the 
metropolis. 

ix. Absent or present, his boy of promise 
was never forgotten by Richard's passionate 
affection. Of this a curious proof is afforded 
by an incident related in the continuation of 
the chronicle of Croyland : — '' One day, at this 
period, in the month of Febuary, 1484, shortly 
after mid-day, nearly all the lords of the realm, 
both spiritual and temporal, together with the 
higher knights and esquires of the King's 
household (among all of whom John Howard, 
who had lately been created by the king 
Duke of Norfolk, seemed at that time to hold 



DEATH OF THE PR1NC>E. 275 

the highest rank) met together, at the special 
command of the King, in a certain lower 
room, near the passage which leads to the 
Queen's apartments, and here each subscribed 
his name to a kind of new oath, drawn up by 
some persons to me unknown, of adherence to 
Edward, the King's only son, as their su- 
preme lord, in case anything should happen 
to his father." But vain were all these pre- 
cautions. Richard's love and ambition were 
doomed to be crushed in the dust by a resist- 
less fate. " In a short time after it was fully 
seen how vain are the thouo^hts of a man who 
desires to establish his interests without the 
aid of God. For, in the following month of 
April, on a day not very far distant from the 
anniversary of King Edward, this only son of 
his, in whom all the hopes of the royal suc- 
cession, fortified with so many oaths, were 
centred, was seized with an illness but of short 
duration, and died at Middleham Castle, in 
the year of our Lord 1484, being the first 
of the reign of the said King Richard. On 
hearing the news of this at Nottingham, where 
they were then residing, you might have seen 
his father and mother, in a state almost bor- 
dering on madness, by reason of his sudden 



276 EDWARD OF MIDDLEHAM. 

grief." According to tlie Eous dironicler) 
Edward of Midfllehain died on the last day of 
March, and died, he says, an '^ unhappy 
death ;" from which we may either infer that 
his decease was sudden, and attended by 
some remarkable circumstances; or that it 
was considered unhappy in its influence upon 
the future of his doting parents. It fell like 
a death-blow on the heart of Anne, who from, 
that fatal hour never knew peace of mind or 
health of body, and gradually sank a victim 
to her unavailing regret. She died, literally, 
of a broken heart, at Westminster Palace, on 
the 16th of* March, 1485, at the early age of 
thirty-one. Thus terminated a career which 
opening in sunshine was soon obscured with 
the dee])est and darkest shadows, and which 
a few passing gleams of light did but irradiate 
to contrast all the more terribly the prevail- 
ing gloom. 



CHAPTER VII. 



PRINCE ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER, SON OF 
HENRY VII. 



I Authorities : — Bernard Andreas; Erasmi Opera; Froude'& 
History of England; Bacon's Henry the Seventh; Eachard's 
History of England; Lingards ditto; Strickland's Queens of 
England ; Pynson s Traduction and Marriage of the Princess 
Katherine ; Leland's Collectanea; Ellis's Original Letters; 
Woods Letters of Royal and Illustrious Ladies ; Pictorial 
History of England ; etc., etc.] 



CHAPTEE VIL 



PKINCa ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER, SON OF 
HENRY VII. 

"Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, 
While proudly rising o"er the azure realm, 
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, 

Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm." 

Gray. 

1. The marriage of Elizabeth, daughter 
of Edward the Fourth,with Henry the Seventh 
took phxce in London on the 18th of January, 
1486. This act of atonement to the house of 
York was received by the people with great 
satisfaction, and ^' the day of marriage,' ' says 
Lord Bacon, " was celebrated with greater 
triumph and demonstration of joy and glad- 
ness than the days either of the king's entry 
or coronation ; which the king rather noted 
than liked. And it is true that all his life 
time, while the Lady Elizabeth lived with 
him (for she died before him), he showed him- 
self no very indulgent husband towards her, 



280 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

tlioiigli she was beautiful, gentle, and fruitful. 
Bui his aversion towards the House of York 
was so predominant in him, as it found place 
not only in his wars and councils, but in his 
chamber and bed.'' 

ii. Henry's title to the throne was one that 
could better be vindicated by the sword than 
by legal argument or constitutional right. 
The claim of the House of Lancaster is con- 
sidered by our best jurists to have been ill- 
founded. Henry the Seventh, indeed, was the 
son of Margaret, Countess of Eichmond, who 
was sole daughter and heir of the Duke of 
Somerset, sprung from John of Gaunt, Duke 
of Lancaster, but the descent of the Somerset 
line was illegitimate, the Duke of Somerset 
being the issue of John of Gaunt' s adulterous 
connexion with Catherine Swinford. " And 
though," says Hume, " the Duke of Lancas- 
ter had obtained the legitimation of his natural 
children by a patent from Eichard IL, con- 
firmed in parliament, it might justly be 
doubted whether this deed could bestow any 
title to the crown *, since in the patent itself 
all the privileges conferred by it are fully 
enumerated, and the succession to the kingdom 
is expressly excluded. In all settlements of the 



AN AUSPICIOUS BEGINNING. 281 

crown, made during the reigns of the Lancas- 
trian princes, the line of Somerset had been 
entirely overlooked ; and it was not till the 
failure of the legitimate branch that men had 
paid any attention to their claim. And, to 
add to the general dissatisfaction against 
Henry's title, his mother, from whom he de- 
rived all his right, was still alive, and evi- 
dently preceded him in the order of succes- 
sion.'' 

iii. Elizabeth was now the sole representa- 
tive of the House of York, and her marriage 
with Henry united in their issue the long con- 
tending claims of the rival Roses. Both king 
and queen professed to be descended from the 
old Welsh princes, the lineage of Henry dating 
from the illustrous Cad wallader himself ; and 
in his person the old prophecy being fulfilled 
that the blood of the great British hero should, 
in the fulness of time, once more occupy the 
throne of Britain. The politic Henry made 
the most of his armoric ancestry, and when a 
son and heir was born to him, on the 20th^of 
September, 1486, in Winchester Castle, he 
named him after the most famous chieftain of 
the pre-historic age — Prince Arthur. A 
name of wonderful import, if the old chronicler 



282 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

Grafton may "be credited, for not only did 
Eno'lislimen rejoice at it as significant of their 
heroic o;lories, but '' outward nations and 
foreign princes trembled and quaked, so much 
was that name to all most terrible and fear- 
fuL^' 

iv. A splendid christening ceremonial was 
celebrated in honour of this infant heir of the 
fortunes of Lancaster and York, The prince 
was born (prematurely) on a Wednesday, 
about one o'clock a.m., but remained unchris- 
tened until the following Sunday, '' because 
the Earl of Oxford was at tiat time in Suffolk, 
which should be one of the godfathers at the 
font, and also the season was rainy." A new 
font of silver gilt was prepared for the occa- 
sion, and hallowed by Bishop Alcock. All 
the dignitaries of the cathedral, arrayed in 
robes of state, made ready to receive the royal 
infant ; bells were rang aloud in every sacred 
town, and the loud music of trumpets swelled 
through the streets of Winchester. Then, in 
dignified order, came the grand procession of 
nobles, knights, and squires ; heralds and 
pages; maids of honour and pursuivants; 
while torchbearers, raising aloft their tall wax 
tap3rs, threw a pleasant gleam on the Lady 



A CHKISTENINQ CEREMOA^Y. 283 

Anne, the queen's sister, who advanced with 
a rich chrysom pinned on her right breast ; 
and on the Lady Cicely, another of the queen's 
sisters, who carried the infant prince, wrapped 
in a mantle ot crimson cloth of gold fm-red 
with ermine, and who was supported by the 
Marquis of Dorset and the Earl of Lincoln. 

V. For six long hours this brilliant com- 
pany waited for the coming of the prince's 
sponsor, the Earl of Oxford, who was making 
what haste he could from Suffolk, but was 
sore bested by the miry and almost impas- 
sable roads. At last the king commanded 
that the ceremony should proceed, and the 
Earl of Derby and Lord Maltravers stood at 
the font as godfathers, the queen's mother as 
godmother to her grandchild. The name was 
uttered, the benediction pronounced, and the 
babe bodily immersed in the holy water, which 
process having been completed, the lagging 
Earl of Oxford arrived. The other rites were 
duly celebrated in the order prescribed by the 
Catholic Church, and the infant prince, being 
borne to the high altar, was laid thereupon by 
the Earl of Oxford. Evensong was next 
performed, and the Earl of Lincoln then took 



i^84 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

the prince and held him upon his right arm, 
while the Bishop of Exeter confinned him, 
and the Bishop of Salisbury knit the linen cloth 
about his neck. Costly gifts were laid upon 
the altar by the sovereign, and spice and hip- 
pocras, in cups of silver gilt, served round at 
St. Swithin's shrine; whereupon the Lady 
Cicely bore homeward in state the royal babe, 
to the sound of merry music and enthusiastic 
shouts. A grand banquet at the castle closed 
the day's rejoicing, while in the precincts of 
the cathedral several pipes of wine were 
broached, that every loyal citizen might drink 
a cup to the health of the heir of the united 
Eoses ! 

vi. The nursery of the royal couple was not 
long tenanted by Prince Arthur only. Two 
sons and five daughters in all were the issue 
of their auspicious marriage ; Henry, Duke of 
York, born in 1491 ; Margaret, afterwards 
Queen of Scotland ; Elizabeth, who died in 
her infancy ; Mary Tudpr, for a brief while 
Queen of France, and afterwards the loved 
and loving wife of Charles Brandon, Duke of 
Suffolk ; and Katherine, the last princess born 
in the Tower of London, in giving birth to 



HIS EDUCATION. 285 

whom the royal mother perished. Prince 
Edmund lived so few hours that his name 
need hardly be recorded in our chronicle. 

vii. As soon as Prince Arthur was eman- 
cipated from the nursery, his education was 
confided to the care of Bernard Andreas, a 
learned Italian, who has left in Latin a curious 
memorial of his pupil, and a record of the 
principal events of Henry the Seventh's reign. 
He eulogises the young prince as endowed 
with the highest virtues, and gifted with a 
wonderful capacity, which enabled him to 
obtain a mastery of almost every branch of 
learning. He either learned without book, or 
revolved with his own hands and eyes, an 
entire library of classics, such as woidd now- 
a days tax the energies of even a graduate in 
honours at Oxford ! He read, we are told, 
in grammar, Aulus Gtllius, Valla, Sulpicius, 
Perot, and Garin ; in oratory, the works of 
Cicero and Quintilian ; in history, Livy, 
Suetonius, Tacitus, Pliny, Csesar, Thucydides, 
Valerius Maximus, Sallust, and Eusebius; 
and in poetry. Homer, Virgil, Terence, 
Plautus, Silius Italicus, Ovid and Lucan : 
whence we may infer that Prince Arthur was 
an- omnivorous student, and that his instructor 



286 ARTHUiJ OF WINCHESTER. 

exercised no great discretion in tlie selection 
of the authors he placed before him. Speed, 
the chronicler, repeats this list with evident 
satisfaction, as showing wliat books were 
considered essential in the daysoftheTudors, 
for the " rudimental'^ education, and early 
mental training of the sons of kings, and 
laments over the degeneracy of his own age, 
when a less profound and comprehensive 
euriculum of study was mibappily in vogue. 
But it may reasonably be doubted whether 
the prince's knowledge of any of these authors 
was more than superficial, and whether his 
Latinity was anything more classic or pro- 
found than tbe Latinity of kings. 

viii. But if we may suspect the depth and 
extent of his erudition, we have no pretence 
for disputing his excellence as a toxophilist. 
So renowned was his skill in archery, that all 
firft-rate bowmen were popularly called 
'' Prince Arthurs," and while his brother 
Henry outshone him in the dance, he re- 
mained unrivalled at the butts. He was not 
of so handsome a figure or gracious an ad- 
dress as the fiiscinating Duke of York, nor 
does he appear to have commanded so much 
of the applause of the vulgar ; but, neverthe- 



THOMAS LINACRE. 287 

less, his person was well shaped, his counter 
ance open and engaging, and from the few 
glimpses we obtain of his mode of life and 
conduct, it would seem that his mind was 
admirably balanced, his natural capacity ex- 
cellent, and his love of knowledge unaffected. 
In the tenth year of his age he paid two visits 
to Oxford, where the students received him 
nobly, as beseemed one who was in tastes and 
sympathies so akin to themselves. He lodged 
with the President, and dined on fish, and 
flesh, and fowl, with red wine, sack, and 
honest claret. 

ix. As he grew out of childhood, Dr. 
Thomas Linacre was associated with Andreas 
in the care of his health and education, and 
never had promising pupil a more capable 
instructor. 

Linacre, descended from the Linacres of 
Linacre Hall, in the parish of Chesterfield, 
Derbyshire, was born at Canterbury about 
1460. There he received the rudiments of 
his education from one William of Selling, or 
William Tilly, and, removing to Oxford, so 
speedily distinguished himself by the force of 
his intellect and the extent of his erudition, 
that he was unanimously chosen a fellow of 



288 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

All Souls College, in 1484. Not content with 
the learning to be acquired at Oxford, he pro- 
ceeded to Italy, and studied at Bologna, and 
afterwards at Eome, under Hermolaus Bar- 
barus. Here the works of Aristotle and Galen 
especially attracted his attention, and he is 
said to have been the first Englishman who 
mastered them in i\ie original Greek. He 
translated several of Galen's treatises into 
Latin ; corresponded with Politian ; and shone 
" a bright particular star," at the court of 
Lorenzo de Medici. 

On his return to England Linacre was 
honoured by the University of Oxford with 
the diploma of Doctor of Medicine, and his 
lectures on physic and natural philosophy 
attracted admiring audiences. So eminent 
was his reputation that Henry VII . summoned 
him to court, and entrusted him with the 
chief care of the health and education of the 
heir to the crown. To Prince Arthur he de- 
dicated his translation of Proclus, " De 
Sphaera," which was printed in the " Astro- 
nomi Veteres," (a.d. 1499) ; and for the Prin- 
cess Mary he composed an Elementary Latin 
Grammar. His learning and theological 
studies attracted the attention of Henry, then 



THOMAS LINAGKE. 289 

Duke of York, wlio, on Ms accession to the 
throne, distinguished him with especial marks 
of favour, and appointed him his Physician- 
in-Ordinary. 

Linacre was not only a "leech," but a 
divine. In 1509 he held the rectory of Mer- 
sham, which he resigned for a prebendship 
in the cathedral church of Wells. In 1518 
he was appointed a prebendary of York. He 
proved his devotion to the medical profession, 
however, by founding lectureships on physic 
at Oxford and Cambridge, and by the esta- 
blishment of the corporate body of the college 
of Physicians in London. He died, after a 
life of useful labour, on the 20th of October, 
1524, and was buried in St. Paul's Cathedral, 
London. 

X. Prince Arthur was only eight years of 
age when his politic father sought to strengthen 
his position by allying him with the daughter 
of Ferdinand of Spain. The negociations 
were, however, protracted over several years, 
each monarch watching the Varying fortunes 
of the other with artfully-concealed anxiety, 
and it was not until Ferdinand had crushed 
out the last lingering sparks of the Moorish 

VOL. I. o 



290 ARTHUK OF WINCHESTEE. 

dominion, and Henry had disposed of every 
obnoxious claimant to his crown, that a for- 
mal contract of marriage was completed be- 
tween Prince Arthur and Katharine of Arra- 
gon. Meanwhile, a constant correspondence 
had been maintained between the two, the 
Prince addressing his future bride in such 
excellent Latin, that it may shrewdly be sus- 
pected his love-letters were adorned by the 
correcting pen of Linacre or Bernard Andreas. 
Here is a specimen :* endorsed, 
''To the most illustrious and excellent Princess, 

the Lady Katherine, Princess of Wales, 

Duchess of Cornwall, &c. 
" My most entirely and beloved Spouse/' 

The letter runs as follows : — 

" Most illustrious and admirable lady, my 
dearest spouse, I wish you the highest health 
with my hearty commendation. I have read 
the most loving letters of your Highness, 
lately given to me, wherein your most entire 
affection for me I have easily perceived. And 
indeed, those letters, written by your own 
hand, have so pleased me, and rendered me 
so cheerful and happy, that I feel as if I be- 

* Wood's Letters of Royal and Illustrious Ladies. 



A prince's loye- letter. 291 

held your Higliness, and conversed witli and 
embraced mj dearest wife. 

"I cannot tell you how earnestly I long to 
see your Highness, and how the delay in your 
coming continually vexes me ; but I owe you 
my eternal gratitude for so lovingly respond- 
ing to my ardent passion. Let our corres- 
pondence continue, I entreat, as it has begun ; 
and as I cherish your sweet memory, night 
and day, so do you preserve my name ever in 
your heart. Let your coming to me be 
hastened, that instead of being absent, we 
may be present with each other, and the love 
existing between us, and the happiness we 
desire, may reap their proper fruit. 

''Moreover, I have done as your illustrious 
Highness wished me, in commending you to 
the most serene Lord and Lady, the King and 
Queen, my parents, and in repeating your 
filial affection towards them, which it gratified 
them exceedingly to hear, especially from my 
lips. I entreat your Highness to be pleased 
to exercise a like good office for me, and to 
remember me with sincere good-will to the 
most serene Lord and Lady, your parents, for 
I as highly reverence, esteem, and prize 

o 2 



292 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

them as if they were mine own, and wish 
them all happiness and prosperity. 

" May your Highness be ever fortunate and 
happy, and be kept secure and joyful, and let 
me be acquainted of it often and speedily 
by your, letters, which will be to me most 
pleasant. 

'' From our Castle of Ludlow, the 3rd of 
the Nones of October (15th), 1499. 

" Your Highnesses most loving spouse, 
" Arthur, 
" Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, and 
'' Eldest Son of the King." 

xi. Doima Catalina, as the Spanish called 
her, departed from Granada for England on 
the 21st of May, 1501 ; she embarked at Cor- 
unna on the 17th of August, but owing to a 
prevalence of contrary gales, was driven back 
on the coast of old Castile, — a mishap which 
occasioned Donna Catalina a serious illness. 
When she had recovered, she again em- 
barked, on the 26th of September, and 
the weather proving favourable, landed at 
Plymouth (which the Spanish, chronicler calls 
Salamonte)^ on the 2nd of October, where she 
was grandly received ''with much feasting 
and rejoicing." Lord Broke, the steward of 



A ROYAL PROGRESS. 293 

the rojal palace, was sent forward by King 
Henry to "purvey and provide for her/' and 
the Earl of Surrey and the Duchess of Nor- 
folk to attend upon her. King Henry him- 
self commenced his progress to meet her, from 
the palace of Shene, on the 4:th of November, 
but owing to the tempestuous rains and the 
perilous conditions of the roads, got no farther 
than Chertsey oil the first day. Next morn- 
ing the king's grace and all his company rose 
betimes, and smiting the sides of their horses 
with impetuous spurs, rode as far forward as 
East Hampstead, where they pleasantly en- 
countered "the pure and proper presence" of 
Prince Arthur, who had set out to salute his 
sage father, as yet unaware that Donna 
Catalina had arrived. The night was agree- 
ably spent at East Hampstead, and next 
morning the cavalcade resumed its journey ; 
when as the travellers spurred across the 
open Downs, they were met by the prothono- 
tary of Spain and a party of Spanish cava- 
liers, whose mission it was to forbid the ap- 
proach of the royal bridegroom and his 
father, as contrary to the old Moorish custom 
for the betrothed to gaze upon the Infanta 
until she stood before him at the altar. This 



294 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

prohibition proved very unacceptable to King 
Henry, who, after a long deliberation with 
his nobles, compromised the difficulty by 
leaving his son upon the windy, rain-swept 
Downs, while he himself rode forward to 
salute the Spanish princess. 

xii. The king accordingly made all speed 
to reach Dogmersfield, where the Infanta had 
arrived two or three hours before. At first 
her environage of prelates, nobles, and ladies 
stoutly refused to admit him into her pre- 
sence, but Henry protesting that if even she 
were in bed, he meant to see and speak with 
her, for that was his mind, and the whole in- 
tent of his coming, an interview was finally 
conceded. Neither Henry nor Catherine 
could converse in any language common to 
the two, but nevertheless, they uttered each 
in his or her own tongue, the " most goodly 
words" to each other, '' to as great joy and 
gladness as any persons conveniently might 
have." In due time the prince arrived, and 
both he and his royal father were admitted 
into the presence of the Infanta, and a conver- 
sation carried on in Latin. By means of that 
ancient language, and the still older language 
of the eyes, the future bride and bridegroom 



THE INFANTA DANCES. 295 

contrived to say what was mutually pleasing, 
so that the king took occasion to make them 
pledge their troth in person. Henry and his 
son then withdrew to supper, and after the 
meal was ended, they most courteously visited 
the infanta in her own chamber, when she and 
her ladies called for their minstrels, and with 
great goodly behaviour and manner solaced 
themselves with dancing. Prince Arthur 
knew nothing of fandangos or boleros, but to 
shew he was not ignorant of the accomplish- 
ment, he offered his hand to Dame Jane 
Guildford, his sister's governess, and demeaned 
himself right pleasantly and honorably. 

xiii. The morrow was the 7th of Novem- 
ber, and the Infanta proceeded as far as 
Chertsey, lodging for the night at its royal 
palace, and the next day she set forth with 
the intention of reaching Lambeth. But 
before she arrived at that town " this noble 
lady met, beyond a village called Kingston- 
upon -Thames, the Duke of Buckingham on 
horseback, the Earl of Kent, the Lord Henry 
Stafford, and the Abbot of Bury, with a train 
of dukes and gentlemen to the number of four 
hundred, all mounted and dressed in the Staf- 
ford livery of scarlet and black. After the 



296 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

said Duke liad saluted her grace, the Abbot of 
Bury pronounced in goodly Latin a certain 
prolusion, welcoming her into this realm/' 
The night was spent at Kingston. The next 
morning the Spanish lady and her brilliant fol- 
lowing reached Kennington Palace, where she 
continued while her Spanish and English at- 
tendants made the necessary preparations for 
her presentation to the English people, who 
have ever been famous for " the wonderful 
welcomes they give to acceptable and well- 
beloved strangers." 

xiv. Meanwhile King Henry had rejoined 
his queen at Eichmond, nor did the royal 
couple quit that most beautiful of " sylvan 
bowers'' until the 10th, when the king rode 
to Paris Garden, Southwark, and then taking 
water dropped down to Baynard's Castle, an 
ancient fortalice agreeably situated on the 
river side, whose interior had been suitably 
garnished and arranged for the reception of 
the Castilian lady. The day previous Prince 
Arthur, with a splendid train, had ridden 
through Fleet Street to the Wardrobe Palace 
at Blackfriars, and took up his abode there 
until the day of his marriage. The princess 
did not make her entry into the city until the 



THE infanta's COSTUME. 297 

12 til of November, when she went in proces- 
sion, with a splendid retinue, from Lambeth 
to Southwark, and crossed London Bridge 
into the wealthy metropolis of her future 
kingdom. 

XV. The Infanta, after the manner of 
Spanish ladies, rode on a mule ; the Duke of 
York on her right hand, and the Papal Legate 
on her left. Her saddle was fashioned like a 
small arm-chair, with crossed staves, and was 
luxuriously gilded and fancifally adorned. 
Her attire was picturesque, and won the ad- 
miring gaze of the good citizens of London. 
On her head she wore a broad round hat re- 
sembling a cardinal's, and tied beneath the 
chin with a lace of gold. A coif, of carnation 
colour, under this hat, did but partially confine 
her auburn hair, which streamed over her 
shoulders like rippled gold. The Infanta's 
governess. Donna Elvira, called the lady- 
mistress, followed her closely, dressed all in 
black, with a kerchief on her head, and black 
cloths hanging down on each side of her face, 
like "a religious woman.'' Four Spanish 
ladies on mules came next, each led by an 
English lady, dressed in cloth of gold and 

5 



298 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

riding on a palfrey ; but as tlie Spanish and 
English did not sit on the same side in riding, 
each couple appeared to ride back to back, as 
if a very settled aversion existed between 
them. 

xvi. The Infanta was welcomed with a civic 
pageant representing the apotheosis of St. 
Katherine, her name-saint, and at almost 
every step she was met with some gorgeous 
ceremonial or emblematic devicfe, in which 
her descent from the legitimate line of Lan- 
caster by Philippa, Queen of Castile, daughter 
of the famous John of Gaunt, was duly alle- 
gorized. In another pageant the Prince was 
likened to the northern star Arcturus, the 
Infanta to Hesperus, the fair star of the west. 
Thus attended by allegories and emblems the 
Spanish lady moved onward to her place of 
destination, the Bishop's Palace, situated close 
to the cathedral where the marriage service 
was to be celebrated. A long platform of 
timber had been erected in the interior of the 
church, from the west door to the first step of 
the choir, at a height of six feet from the 
ground ; and in the centre a high circular 
stage was constructed, ascended on all sides ' 
by steps. This stage was the place where the 



THE MAREIAGE CEREMONY. 299 

nuptial ceremony was performed, and was 
large enough to accommodate eight persons ; 
it was railed round and covered with scarlet 
cloth. On its north side a latticed box was 
prepared for the king and queen, and the 
Countess of Richmond ; on the south a raised 
dais for the Lord Mayor and civic authorities, 
xvii. On St. Erconwald's day, November 
the 14th, the marriage took place. The 
Infanta was escorted from the palace to the 
cathedral by the handsome Henry, Duke of 
York, who was to cast so* dark a shadow and 
so fatal a cloud over her later life. She was 
magnificently attired : " her gown was very 
large, both the sleeves and also the body, 
with many plaits; and beneath the waist, 
certain round hoops, bearing out the gown 
from the body after her country manner. She 
wore upon her head a coif of white silk, with 
a scarf bordered with gold, and pearl, and 
precious stones, five inches and a half broad, 
which veiled great part of her visage and her 
person." A train of one hundred ladies, and 
a bevy of young unmarried bachelors, followed 
her in glittering array. The Prince entered 
the cathedral at the south door, " next west- 
ward to Our Lady of Grace, in the body of 



300 AETHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

the cliurcli." His retinue was very splendid, 
as beseemed a Prince of Wales. He was at- 
tired in wMte satin. 

xviii. The marriage-ceremonial was marked 
by many peculiar details wbicli are elaborately 
recorded in a curious black-letter pamphlet, 
printed by Caxton's successor, friend, and 
pupil, Eichard Pynson, and of which a copy is 
preserved in the British Museum. This 
'' Traduction and Marriage of the Princess 
Katherine, Infanta of Spain," shows, that the 
bride and bridegroom having taken their 
places on the elevated stage already described, 
the banns were publicly proclaimed, and ques- 
tion was whether any person present knew 
cause or reason why they should be forbidden. 
Then followed a singular comedy. A doctor of 
laws previously selected for the office, stepped 
forward, and objected to the marriage on 
certain assumed grounds which he professed 
to draw from the laws of Christ's holy church, 
When he had concluded his pleadings, another 
learned advocate advanced to refute them, 
and demonstrated, undoubtedly to the satis- 
faction of his audience, that the marriage was 
an excellent marriage, and forbidden by no 
laws either human or divine. The comedy 



THE BRIDAL POMP. 301 

was terminated by the Master of tlie Eolls, 
who gravely investigated the force of the con- 
flicting arguments, and finally gave judgment 
for the defendant, declaring the marriage to 
be in accordance with the rules and principles 
of the church. One cannot help pitying the 
passive actors in this strange scene — the 
young bride and bridegroom, the one eighteen, 
the other but sixteen years old — exposed for 
so wearisome an interval to the gaze of the 
crowded cathedral ! 

xix. Nineteen bishops and abbots, headed 
by the Archbishop of Canterbury, having 
completed the lengthy ceremonial, the Prince 
and Princess retired to the Episcopal Mansion, 
the young Duke of York, by a strange 
fashion, conducting thither the bride as he 
had led her to the cathedral. Then the 
minstrels played their merriest, and a splendid 
banquet was placed before the glittering as- 
semblage, while the river was thronged with 
gaily bannered boats, and bonfires blazed in 
every street, and the red wine ran freely from 
every conduit. The people were well-pleased 
with the alliance, for Katherine brought with 
her a dowry of 200,000 crowns of gold ; and, 
in illustration of the prevalent feeling, a stage- 



302 ARTHUE OF WINCHESTER. 

mimic, costumed to represent Katherioe's 
star-gazing ancestor, Alfonzo the Wise, had 
appeared in the morning before the princely 
twain, and in the name of all the planets pro- 
mised them a long career of happiness, and a 
fruitful bed — audacious prophecy, only to be 
too sadly contradicted by Time and Circum- 
stance ! 

XX. For a fortnight after the marriage, all 
London was mad with revelry. Thus, on 
the Thursday, the bride, accompanied by the 
royal family, came in barges to Westminster. 
'' The large space before Westminster-hall 
was gravelled and smoothed, and a tilt set up 
the whole length from the water-gate to the 
gate that opens into King-street, leading to the 
Sanctuary.* On the south side was a stage, 
hung wit a cloth of gold, and furnished with 
cushions of the same : on the right side, en- 
tered the king and his lords ; on the left, the 
queen, the bride, and their ladies. ' And 
round the whole area were stages built for 
the honest common people, which, at their 
cost, were hired by them in such numbers, 
that nothing but visages presented themselves 
to the eye, without any appearance of bodies ! 

Leland's Collectanea.; 



THE BRIDAL POMP. 303 

And eftsoons, when the trumpets blew up 
goodly points of war, the nobility and chivalry, 
engaged to tilt, appeared in the arena, riding 
under fanciful canopies, born by their re- 
tainers/ These shall serve as specimens for 
the rest : ' Bourchier, Earl of Essex, had a 
mountain of green carried over him as his 
pavilion, and upon it many trees, rocks, and 
marvellous beasts, withal, climbing up the 
sides : on the summit sat a goodly young 
lady, in her hair, pleasantly beseen. The 
Lord Marquess of Dorset, half-brother to the 
queen, had borne over him a rich pavilion of 
cloth of gold, himself always riding within 
the same, drest in his armour/ Lord William 
Courtenay, brother-in-law to the queen, made 
his ' appearance, riding on a red dragon led 
by a giant, with a great tree in his hand/ 
Attended by similar pageantry, twenty or 
thirty of the tilters rode round the area, to the 
delight of the commonalty, who had all their 
especial favourites among the noble actors in 
the scene, and had, moreover, the infinite sa- 
tisfaction of seeing them tilt with sharp spears, 
and, 'in great jeopardy of their lives, break a 
great many lances on each other's bodies,' 
though the ultimatum of pleasure was not af- 



304 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

forded by any of these sliarp spears effecting 
homicide. Plenty of bruises and bone aches 
were the concomitants of this glorious tilting, 
but no further harm ensued to the noble com- 
batants/'* 

XV. When the tilting was over, the bride 
and her attendants withdrew to the carousals 
of Westminster Hall. The royal dais was 
erected at the upper end, and behind it blazed 
a glorious show of vessels of gold and silver. 
The Queen, the Princess, and the Countess of 
Eichmond sat on the king's left hand ; their 
ladies and the royal children stationed near 
the Queen : Prince Arthur was placed on his 
father's right hand, and the nobles of the 
court took their seats on the King's side ac- 
cording to their degrees of precedency. "Thus," 
says Miss Strickland, " in the ancient regime 
of the court, the sexes were divided into two 
opposite parties ; the king and queen, who 
were the chiefs of each band, were the only 
man and woman who sat near each other. 
When any dancing was required that was 
not included in the pageantry, a lady and a 
cavalier went down, one from the king's 
and the other from the queen's party, and 

* Strickland's Queens of England. 



A WONDERFUL PAGEANT. 305 

figured on the dancing space before the royal 
platform." 

xvio The pageantry began with magnificent 
moving shows of a mountain, a castle, and a 
ship, which were wheeled in before the royal 
dais ; the ship manned by seamen, who as- 
tonished the ears of the court with seafaring 
speech. The castle was splendidly lighted 
up ; it contained eight newly-apparelled gen- 
tlewomen within, each fair face looking from 
her appropriate window, and on the summit 
sat a lady in Spanish garb, costumed to re- 
present the dusky Catalina. Two ''well- 
behaved and well-beseen gentlemen," per- 
sonating Hope and Desire, pressed their suits 
warmly upon this representative of the Infanta, 
but were rejected with appropriate contumely. 
After much pantomimic action, the ladies 
descended from the castle, and the ship and 
mountain gave up their gentlemen, and the 
twelve couples danced several " goodly 
roundels, and divers figures, and then vanished 
out of sight and presence." The castle was 
drawn away, as it had been brought thither, 
by "marvellous beasts," — gold and silver 
lions harnessed with huge chains of gold — 
each beast being impelled by " two men, one 



306 ARTHUK OF WINCHESTER. 

in the fore and the other in the hind quarters, 
so well hid and apparelled, that nothing ap- 
peared but their legs, which were disguised 
after the proportion and kind of the beast 
they were in/' 

xvii. This part of the entertainment over. 
Prince Arthur and the Princess Cicely, his 
aunt, descended from the dais, and danced 
two base dances, followed by the bride and 
one of the Spanish ladies, who, in like manner, 
moved through two stately measures. Next, 
Henry, Duke of York, having with him his 
sister the Lady Margaret, the young Queen 
of Scots, in his hand, came down and danced 
two dances, and went up to the Queen. And 
so much was their performance approved, 
that a repetition was insisted upon, and as an 
actor stimulated by popular applause redou- 
bles his exertions to deserve it, so the gay 
boy-duke now flung off his robe, and danced 
in his jacket in so " goodly and pleasant a 
manner," that it was to King Henry and 
Queien Elizabeth a great and singular plea- 
sure. 

xviii. We have no space for an enume- 
ration of the festivities that marked each of 
the fourteen days, but venture to borrow from 



SUNDAY PASTIME. 307 

Miss Strickland ^s lively pages a summary of 
the chronicler's narrative of the Sunday doing. 
"'On the Sunday,' she says, quoting the 
herald's account preserved in Leland's 
Collectanea, ' was laid out a royal dinner 
in the white hall, or parliament cham- 
ber. The king sat at the side table next to 
his own chamber, with Katharine of Arragon 
at his right hand. At the same table sat the 
prothonotary of Spain, and Katherine's 
Spanish duenna. The queen sat at the table 
at the bed's feet, which was the table of most 
reputation of all the tables in the chamber.' 
It seems, from this passage, that some parti- 
tion had been removed and the king's cham- 
ber and bed thrown into view, a practice fre- 
quent in Gothic castles. The evening re- 
freshment, called the voide, was brought in 
by fourscore earls, barons, and knights, walk- 
ing two and two, the ceremony of serving the 
voide being precisely as coffee is now pre- 
sented after dinner ; but instead of coffee and 
biscuits, ipocras and comfits were offered. 
One noble servitor presented the spice-plate, 
a second the cup, while a third, of lower rank, 
filled the cup from a golden ewer. At this 
voide Katherine of Arragon distributed the 



308 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

prizes won in the tilt-yard. To the Duke of 
Buckingham she gave a diamond of great 
virtue and price, the Marquis of Dorset re- 
ceived from her hands a ruby, and to the 
others were given rings set with precious 
stones. The court departed the next Sunday 
for Eichmond, where, after an exordium on 
the proper way of spending the Sabbath, our 
informant tells us that, . ' after divine service 
the king sped with his court through his goodly 
gardens to his gallery, upon the walls, where 
were lords ready set to play ; some with chesses 
[chess-boards], some with tables [or back- 
gammon], and some with cards and dice. 
Besides, a framework with ropes was fixed in 
the garden, on which went up a Spaniard, 
and did many wondrous and delicious points 
of tumbling and dancing.' In the evening 
the pageant of a rock, drawn by three sea- 
horses, made its appearance at the end of 
the hall ; on either side of the rock were 
mermaids, one of them being a ' man-mer- 
maid' in armour. But these mermaids were 
but cases or shells, in which were perched the 
sweet-voiced children of the king's chapel, 
'who sang right sweetly, with quaint har- 
mony' while the pageant was progressing to 



AFTER THE MAERIAGE. 309 

the dais, where sat the royal bride and the king 
and queen. ' Instead of dancers, there were 
let out of the rock a great number of white 
doves and live rabbits, which creatures flew 
and ran about the hall, causing great mirth 
and disport. Then were presented to the lords 
and ladies of Spain rich gifts of plate from 
King Henry, with thanks for the care they 
had taken of the Princess Katherine, and they 
took leave for their return to Spain.' " 

xix. Thus passed away the honeymoon in 
fanciful amusements and joyous revelry! 
Jousts, and masques, and feasts — spectacles in 
public and carousals in private — the whole 
round of wearying gaiety was attended by the 
royal pair, not wholly to the contentment, it 
would seem, of the newly married prince. 
The fortnight ended he repaired to his prin- 
cipality of Wales, and took up his residence 
at Ludlow Castle. There he was guided in 
his administration by a very grave and 
reverend council, — Sir Eichard Pole, Sir 
Henry Vernon, Sir Eichard Crofts, Sir David 
Phillips, Sir William Uvedale, Sir Thomas 
Englefield, Sir Peter Newton, Sir John Wal- 
liston, Sir Henry Morton, and Dr. William 
Smith. The latter was the physician charged 



310 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

with, the care of the health of Prince Arthur 
and his bride. They kept up the state and 
dignity of a miniature court, and won " gol- 
den opinions'' from all who came in contact 
witli them by their gentle bearing and affable 
address. A kind phrase dropt from a prince's 
tongue outweighs with the many the most 
impassioned philippics of the greatest orator, 
and it is at very small cost that a sovereign 
may secure the affection of his contempora- 
ries and the applause of posterity. 

XX. Into the happy retirement and wedded 
bliss of Ludlow Castle, suddenly strode 
Death. The young prince fell ill, and in a 
few brief days, died — of the plague, according 
to some authorities, of mental and physical 
fatigue, according to others. He had not 
been five months married when death came to 
him, on the 2nd of April, 1502, in the 
seventeenth year of his age. The nation 
bewailed his premature decease with sincere 
regret. On his parents, who had loved him 
ardently, the blow fell with overpowering 
force. 

The Privy Council long hesitated who 
should tell the fatal news to the king. His 
confessor was at length selected, and the holy 



DEATH OF THE PRINCE. 311 

man accordingly repaired to the royal cham- 
ber in Grreenwich Palace, early in the morn- 
ing. When Henry, surprised at his presence, 
inquired the cause, he replied with texts of 
comfort in Latin, and then informed him that 
his eldest son was not. In his deep affliction 
Henry immediately sent for the Queen — there 
is a certain consolation in the companion shi 
of sorrows, and the gentle Elizabeth, already 
aware of their misfortune, did her best to 
soothe and cheer him. " Heaven," she said, 
" had still left to them a goodly young 
prince and two fair princesses. God is where 
he was, and we are both still young.'* And 
in this strain she continued until the king took 
courage, and thanked her for her good com- 
fort. Thus far the brave woman had crushed 
into silence her own bitter grief. But when 
"she was departed and come to her own 
chamber, the natural and motherly remem- 
brance of the great loss smote her so sorrow- 
fully to the heart, that those that were about 
her were fain to send for the king to comfort 
her. Then his grace, in true, gentle, and faith- 
ful love, in good haste came and relieved her, 
and showed how wise counsel she had given 



312 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

him before ; and he, for his part, would 
thank God for his son, and would she should 
do in like wise."'"' 

xxi. The corpse having lain in state, with 
tapers round about it, for one and twenty days 
and nights, was carried on the afternoon of 
the 23rd of April, one stage towards Worces- 
ter Cathedral — the Prince's banner preceding 
it, and a mournful train of priests and knights 
and squires slowly following. In Ludlow 
parish church it remained the night, a solemn 
funeral service being duly celebrated, and on 
the day after high mass, the sable train again 
moved forward. They reached Bewdley on 
the 25th, and on the 26th arrived at Worces- 
ter. " On the road, doles of groats and half 
groats were given to the poor, and all the 
honors that loyalty could devise and money 
pay for, were readily offered by church, con- 
vent, town, village, prince, and peasant, as 
young Arthur passed on. When he reached 
the cathedral town of Worcester, the specta- 
cle was more imposing than any the old city 
had before witnessed. Dead kings had lain, 
and living princes lived, within its walls, but 

* Leland's Collectanea. 



HIS FUNERAL. 313 

seldom was young prince carried to Ms rest 
with such an amount of pomp, such glorious 
circumstance of mourning, as marked the en- 
tombing of the Tudor Prince of Wales. 

xxii. " This pomp and circumstance," says 
Dr. Doran, ''were at their highest, when young 
Lord Gerrard, heir of the Earl of Kildare, 
rode into the cathedral on the dead prince's 
courser, and covered with his armour, where 
he made offering of the horse to the gospeller 
of the day, the Abbot of Tewkesbnry, and 
then retired on foot, bearing a pole-axe in his 
hand, the head downwards, and was so led 
away. To see the weeping when this was 
done and not have wept too, would have 
argued, we are told, a hard heart in the spec- 
tator. There were offerings made of geld, and 
money, and rich palls, which were thrown 
over the cofl&n, and one of which Worcester 
has preserved to this day. Meanwhile service 
was sung and sermons were preached, and 
doles of groats to the poor made throughout 
and about the church ; and, amid a wail of 
mournful melody, the princely corpse was 
lowered to its grave, ' with weeping and sore 
lamentation.' " 

VOL. I. p 



314 ARTHUR OF WINCHESTER. 

xxili. The death of this ill-fated prince has 
excited little comment from our historians, 
and yet it is worthy of notice among the 
memorable events of English history. In the 
chain which binds the present to the past, the 
slightest link is of some importance. Had 
Arthur lived to become King of England, 
how different the results which might have 
sprung from his mild nature and gentle tem- 
perament, to those, the product of the impe- 
rious will and resolute character of Henry 
the Eighth ! The religious houses might still 
have cast their shadows over the pleasantest 
places of merry England. No Anna Boleyn 
might have compassed the fall of an arbitrary 
Wolsey ; no Mary have lit the fires of an. 
accursed Smithfield! Elizabeth might never 
have built up the goodly structure of English 
Protestantism, nor encouraged the development 
x>f English commerce. On the life or death 
of that weakly prince hung the destinies of 
a mighty empire ; but little could those who 
wept around his grave foresee the extensive 
results which his premature death originated. 
Thus, as the elder D'Israeli justly observes, 
"without venturing to penetrate into the 



ARTHUE OF WINCHESTER. 315 

mysteries of the present order of human 
affairs, and the great scheme of fatality or 
accident, it may be sufficiently evident to us, 
that often on a single event revolve the for- 
tunes of men and of nations." 



CHAPTEE VIII, 



HENRY FREDERICK STUART, PRINCE OF WALES 
— SON OF JAMES THE FIRST. 



1. His Early Years. — 2. Anecdotes of his Education,— 
3. His Court.— 4. His Illness and Death. 



[Authorities : — Harleian Miscellany, Narrative by Cornwallis ; 
Diary of Sir Simon d'Ewes ; Wormwood's Memorials ; Nichols' 
Progresses of James I. ; D' Israeli's James I. ; D'Israeli's 
Curiosities of Literature ; State Papers, Domestic Series ; Birch's 
Life of Henry, Prince of Wales ; Bishop Goodman's Memoirs ; 
Rapin's and Kennett's Histories of England ; Osborne's Secret 
History of James I. ; Nugag Antiquag ; Cooke's Detection ; Arthur 
Wilson, Weldon, etc., etc.] 



CHAPTEH VIII. 



HENRY FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES, 
SON OF JAMES I. 



Lo, where he shineth yonder 

A fixed star in Heaven, 
Whose motion here came under 

None of the Planets seven. 

If that the Moon should tender 
The Sun her love, and marry, 
They both could not engender 
So sweet a star as Harry. 
iConteinporary Ballad-writer in, Lansdowtie Jf/S5.] 

I. 

HIS EARLY YEARS. 

i. Prince Henry Frederick, the eldest son 
of James tlie First and Anne of Denmark, 
was born in Stirling Castle, on the 19th of 
February, 1594. He was christened accord- 
ing to the rites of the Episcopal Church of 
Scotland, with a splendour not unworthy of 
his destiny as the future heir presumptive to 
two thrones. On the day appointed for the 



320 PEINCE HENEY FREDERICK. 

ceremony, lie was removed from his own 
apartment to the Queen's presence-chamber, 
and placed in a state-bed which had been 
specially prepared for him. As soon as the 
Foreign Ambassadors arrived — among whom, 
was Elizabeth of England's envoy, the 
notable Earl of Sussex, Leicester's potent 
rival — the Countess of Mar and her ladies 
took the infant-prince from his bed, and de- 
livered him to the Duke of Lennox, who 
formally presented him to the Ambassadors. 
The procession then moved into the Chapel 
in the following order: — First came Lord 
Hume, carrying the ducal crown of Eothsay 
Then, Lord Livingston, bearing the '' towel, 
or napkin;" Lord Seaton, with the Basin, 
and Lord Temple, the '' Laver." The Earl 
of Sussex next appeared, in the place of 
honour, and supporting, as best he could, the 
royal babe in his stalwart arms. The train 
of the said babe was borne by Lords Sinclair 
and Urquhart, and his canopy was sustained 
by four Scottish gentlemen of distinction. 
When the procession reached the chapel- 
door, King James arose from his seat, and re- 
ceived the Ambassadors at the entrance of 
the choir. The infant was then presented to 



A SCOTTISH CHRISTENING. 321 

the Duke of Lennox, who handed him over to 
the royal nurse ; and the Ambassadors were 
conducted in due form to their proper seats, 
^' every chair having a tassel board covered 
with fine velvet." The service was performed 
by Cunningham, Bishop of Aberdeen. James 
himself, and not the sponsors, gave the name ; 
and in his agitation repeated it, thus — 
" Henry Frederick, Frederick Henry ;'' 
whereupon the Bishop designedly pro- 
nounced the baptismal appellation three 
times, as it was delivered by the father. 
The ceremony concluded, the procession re- 
turned to the palace in the same order, and 
the Prince having been replaced in his bed, 
the Lyon King-at-arms proclaimed his titles as 
follows : — Henry Frederick, Knight and Baron 
of Eenfrew, Lord of the Isles, Earl of Carrick, 
Duke of Eothsay, Prince and Steward of 
Scotland. Largesse of gold and silver was 
distribued among the populace; bonfires 
blazed ; and at a grand evening banquet 
knighthood was conferred on many deserving 
and loyal gentlemen. For some days the 
revels continued ; tourneys and tiltings in the 
morning — songs, dance, and wine at night. 

p 5 



322 PEINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

ii. Prince Henry was a strong and vigor- 
ous child, and at an unusually early age 
gave indications of more than average 
capacity. His custodian was the Earl of 
Mar, and as it was of high importance to 
James that his first-born should be securely 
guarded, he was placed in the Earl's care in 
the strong palatial castle of Stirling. This 
proceeding was much to the Queen's distaste. 
Both from motives of ambition, which ren- 
dered her anxious to establish her influence 
over the mind of her child, and from natural 
maternal sympathies, she resented this sepa- 
ration ; and when she found her husband in- 
sensible to all her entreaties, she even dared 
to ally herself with the noble in open hostility 
to the King, and to project an assault on 
Stirling Castle with armed force, that she 
might regain possession of the infant-prince. 
James, however, was apprised in due time of 
Anne of Denmark's meditated treason, and 
thereupon addressed the following peremptory 
missive to the Earl of Mar : — 

" Striveling, 24, July, 1595. 

"My Lord of Marre, 

" Because in the surety of my son con- 
sisteth my surety, and I have concredited 




Xi 



^■: 



HIS EARLY TRAININa. 323 

iinto jou the charge of his keeping, upon the 
trust I have of jour honesty ; this I command 
you out of my own mouth, being in the com- 
pany of those I like, otherwise for any charge 
or necessity that can come from me, you shall 
not deliver him ; and in case God call me at 
my time, see that neither for the Queen, nor 
estates, their pleasure, you deliver him till he 
be eighteen years of age, and that he com- 
mand you himself." 

iii. We have spoken of his remarkable pre- 
cocity which, perhaps, to a superstitious mind, 
might have suggested a premature death. 
Something was probably due to the wise care- 
fulness and admirable discretion of the 
Countess of Mar, who, in a M.S. of the times, 
is spoken of as " an ancient, virtuous, and 
severe lady, who was the prince's governess 
from his cradle." He was never seen to weep, 
and seemed apparently insensible to pain. 
When little more than five years old, a son of 
the Earl of Mar, not much younger than him- 
self, having ill-treated one of the royal pages, 
the Prince immediately reproved him : — '^ I 
love you," he said, ''because you are my 
lord's son, and my cousin ; but if you be not 



324: PEINCE HENRY FEEDEEICK. 

better conditioned, I will love him better/' 
His tutor was Mr. (afterwards Sir) Adam 
Newton, a man of learning and ability, but a 
rigid disciplinarian. Yet the prince never re- 
membered his austerity to his disadvantage, 
but in later life appointed him his secretary. 
When playing at golf, on one occasion, and 
about to strike the ball, a spectator of the 
game cried out '' Beware, Sir, that you do 
not hit Mr. Newton." The Prince forbore 
the stroke, but smilingly observed, " Had I 
done so, I had but paid my debts." At 
another time, his tutor seeking to dissuade 
him from some childish pastimes, said to him, 
good-humouredly, '' God send you a wise 
wife !" " That she may govern you and me ?" 
inquired the prince. Newton rejoined that 
he had one of his own. " But mine, if I have 
one," retorted Henry, '' would govern your 
wife, and by that means would govern both 
you and me !" 

iv. The tutor did not neglect his physical 
training, while storing his mind with the 
spoils of literature, and would often encourage 
him by his own example to practice knightly 
exercises. One day, when tossing the pike, 



ANECDOTAL GOSSIP. 325 

he displayed so little skill that he failed to hit 
the mark, which the prince observing, New- 
ton irritably replied that, " to find fault was 
an evil humour/' " Master,'' said Prince 
Henry, "I take the humour of you." ''It 
does not become a prince," said Newton. 
''Then doth it worst become a prince's 
master !" A forcible retort, which probably 
Newton did not fail to comprehend. On 
another occasion, the two were playing at 
shuffle-board, and the tutor censured his pupil 
for making too frequent changes in his play- 
ing. Somewhat out of humour, he took up a 
piece, fluQg it on the board, and missed his 
aim, whereupon the prince laughingly cried, 
*' Well thrown, master!" Newton, irritated, 
exclaimed, " I will not strive with a prince 
at shuffle-board." " Yet you gownsmen," 
sai|i Henry, " should be best at such exercises, 
which are not meet for men who are more 
stirring." Newton rejoined, " I am meet for 
whipping of boys." " Then you vaunt !" ex- 
claimed the prince, " that which a plough- 
man or cart-driver can do better than you." 
"I can do more," continued Newton, "for I 
can govern foolish children." The prince, 
unwilling, out of respect for his tutor, to carry 



326 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

on this war of words, now rose from the table, 
saying, in a low voice, to those immediately 
around him, " He had need be a wise man who 
can do that !" 

V. Intent upon his proper educational train- 
ing King Ja nes drew up for him a volume of 
excellent suggestions and much sound advice, 
couched in a very stiff and cumbrous style, 
which he pedantically entitled, the " Basil- 
icon Doron/' Three years later (April, 1603), 
the death of Queen Elizabeth summoned the 
royal Author to the throne of England. " Let 
not this news,'' he wrote to his son, 
" make you proud, or insolent, for a King's 
son and heir were you before, and no 
more are you yet. The augmentation that 
is hereby like to fall unto you, is but in 
cares and heavy burden." Prince Henry, 
however, had already learned to regard ^e 
crown of wealthy and powerful England as a 
more precious prize than that of hardy, but 
obscure Scotland, and disregarding his father's 
*' pride that aped humility," congratulated 
his " most honoured mother " in an elaborate 
letter, " on the happy success of this great 
turn, almost above men's expectation." He 
accompanied the Queen to England, with his 



A MASQUE, 327 

sister Elizabeth, afterwards the hapless Qaeen 
of Bohemia, in June, 1603, arriving at Wind- 
sor after a month's triumphal progress. On 
their way they rested awhile at the princely 
mansion of Althorpe, where they were enter- 
tained with a masque by rare Ben Jonson, in 
which the poet thus bravely addressed the 
boy-prince, not ten years old : 

" Shine bright and fixed as the Arctic star, 
And when slow Time hath made you fit for war, 
Look over the salt ocean, and think where 
You maj' best lead us forth who grow up here, 
Against a day when our officious swords 
Shall speak our actions better than our words." 

vi. On the 2nd of July, he was invested at 
Windsor with the Order of the Garter, the 
ceremony beir.g conducted with unusual pomp 
and splendour. The same high dignity was, 
at the same time, conferred upon the Duke of 
Lennox, and the Earls of Mar, Pembroke, 
and Southampton. On this great occasion, 
the spectators were amazed, we are told, at 
his " quick, witty answers, princely carriage, 
and reverend obeisance at the altar.*' 

In 1610, on the 4th of June, he was created 
Prince of Wales, and the festival was cele- 
l;)rated with a luxurious magnificence which 
outshone even the most famous /^^e5 of the 



328 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

London of the Plantagenets and Tudors. 
It was worthy of the first Duke of Eothsay, 
who was also Duke of Cornwall. 

vii. The pageantry began on Wednesday 
evenmg, the 30th of May, when, attended by 
a train of young companions, the Prince set 
out from St. James's to Richmond, sleeping 
there, and returning to the great city in pro- 
cessional state on the following morning. 
The latter journey was made by water. And 
as the day shone bright with summer sun- 
shine, the river was crowded with bannered 
boats, and its shores thionged with shouting 
spectators; while the procession made its 
way so slowly that the prince was compelled 
to land awhile at Barnes, to refresh himself 
" in an arbour by the waterside,'' and take 
" a short repast of such sweetmeats and other 
things as could then be provided on the 
sudden." 

The procession next dropped down to 
Chelsea, where the prince was met by the 
members of the fifty City Companies, in fifty- 
four richly caparisoned barges, and by a fair 
London maiden, mounted on a paste-board 
whale, who as Corinna, the Genius of Great 
Britain, addressed him in a strain of superla- 



THE CIYIC WELCOME. 329 

tive flattery and '' exquisite conceit.'^ Prince 
and procession, aquatic monster and City 
guilds, reached Whitehall, when the tide was 
at its highest, but the hero of the day was not 
suffered to land until he had endured the 
infliction of another oration, from a repre- 
sentative of Amphion, who bestrode a dolphin, 
and declared himself the Genius of Wales. 

viii. The city was left to meditate over 
what had already been accomplished until 
the following Monday, June the 4th, when, 
at half-past ten in the morning another river- 
procession was arrayed, and conducted the 
king and his son to Westminster. There they 
landed, and proceeded through a joyous and 
exultant throng to the House of Peers, with 
a gorgeous train of nobles, knights, squires, 
and heralds. In due time the king ascended 
the throne, in his royal robes, and was soon 
afterwards attended by Prince Henry and his 
retinue, preceded by G-arter King-at-Arms, 
and supported by the Earls of Nottingham 
and Northampton. The prince bowed thrice 
as he approached the throne, and knelt at its 
foot on a rich cushion, while the Earl of 
Salisbury read aloud the patent which se- 
cured him the honours and dignities of the 



330 PKINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

Welsli' principality. The king next put the 
robes upon him, belted the sword to his side, 
invested him with rod and ring, and set the 
cap and coronet on his head. Thus attired, 
he took his seat on the left hand side of the 
throne, kissed the king's hand, and was after- 
wards folded in a warn parental embrace. 
Then the procession returned, amid the fan- 
faronade of trumpets, and the shouts of the 
multitude, to Whitehall, and the day closed 
with a magnificent banquet. 

ix. On this occasion the order of the Bath 
was conferred on four-and-twenty noblemen 
and gentlemen. A revenue of £1500 monthly 
was allowed for the maintenance of the 
prince's household ; and grants were made to 
him of ancient possessions in Wales, valued 
at £4000 per annum. His income was fur- 
ther increased by allowances from the Trea- 
sury, and the rents of his manors, amounting 
in all to another £3000 yearly. But as he 
maintained a right regal state, it was seldom 
that his income was adequate to his expendi- 
ture, and his father was often called upon to 
make advances from the royal resources. 



RESEMBLANCE TO HENRY V. 331 

n. 

HIS EDUCATION. — ANECDOTES. 

i. From the numerous anecdotes recorded 
by contemporary writers it is easy to obtain 
a clear view of the peculiarities of mind and 
character of this prince of great promise. We 
shall string them together without any parti- 
cular regard to their chronological order, that 
the reader may have sufficient grounds 
whereon to establish a satisfactory judgment. 
They will lead 'him, we think, to echo the 
favourable opinion of the elder D' Israeli, who 
says that "unquestionably he would have 
proved an heroic and military character. 
Had he ascended the throne, the whole face 
of our history might have been changed ; the 
days of Agincourt and Cre^y had been revived, 
and Henry IX. had rivalled Henry V. It is 
remarkable that Prince Henry resembled that 
monarch in his features, as Ben Jonson has 
truly recorded, though in complimentary verse. 
Merlin, in a masque by Jonson, thus addresses 
Prince Henry : — 

"Yet rests that other thunderbolt of war 
- Harry the Fifth : to whom in face you are 
So like, as fate would have you so in worth." 



332 PEINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

He was endowed with a remarkable insight 
into character, a ready wit, a clear judgment, 
no ordinary powers of self-control, a princely 
carriage, and a fascinating address. His faith- 
ful servant, Sir Charles Cornwallis, says he 
was " courteous, loving and affable, his favour, 
like the sun, indifferently seeming to shine 
upon all ; naturally shame-faced and modest, 
most patient, which he showed both in life 
and death. Quick he was to conceive any- 
thing ; not rash, but mature in deliberation, 
and constant having resolved. True of his 
promise, most secret even from his youth, so 
that he might be trusted in anything that did 
not force a discovery, being of a close disposi- 
tion, not too easy to be known, or pried into ; 
of a fearless, noble, heroic, and undaunted 
courage, thinking nothing impossible that 
ever was done by any. He was ardent in his 
love to religion. He made conscience of an 
oath, and was never heard to take God's name 
in vain. He hated Popery, though he was 
not unkind to the persons of Papists. He lived 
and died mightily, striving to do somewhat 
of everything, and to excel in the most excel- 
lent. He greatly delighted in rare inventions 
and arts, and in all kinds of engines belong- 



HIS MARTIAL TASTES. 333 

ing to the wars both by sea and land ; in the 
bravery and number of great horses ; in shoot- 
ing and levelling of great pieces of ordnance ; 
in the ordering and marshalling of arms ; in 
building and gardening, and in all sorts of 
rare music, chiefly the trumpet and drum • in 
triming and painting, carving, and in all sorts 
of excellent and rare pictures which he had 
brought unto him from all countries." 

ANECDOTAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF PRINCE HENRY's 
CHARACTER. 

I. — HIS LOVE OF MARTIAL PURSUITS. 

When he was asked what music he liked 
best, he replied "a trumpet." — On one occa- 
sion, while executing some military move- 
ments, a pedantic formalist who was present 
observed that no men could become good 
soldiers unless they always kept true measure 
and order in marching. " What then must 
they do,'^ cried Henry, " when wading through 
a swift-running water ?" — Eating, in the royal 
presence, a dish of milk, James inquired of 
him, why he ate so much child's meat? 
" Sir," replied the prince, " it is also man's 



334 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

meat/' Soon afterwards he partook heartily 
of porridge, and the King remarked, accord- 
ing to the notions of diet then prevalent, that 
such meat would make him cowardly. ' ' Nay," 
replied the prince, " though it be but a cow- 
ardly fowl, it shall not make me a coward." 
— Once taking strawberries with a couple of 
spoons, the youthful hero exclaimed, " I use 
the one as a rapier, and the other as a dagger." 

Finding him so prone to martial pursuits, 
the king endeavoured to divert him to lite- 
rary studies by the example of his brother, 
Prince Charles, who, he said, would be ad- 
mirably fitted for the cabinet and the council, 
while Henry could only shine in field exer- 
cises and military affairs. The prince at the 
time made no reply, but when his tutor one 
day repeated what the king had said, he asked 
whether, indeed, his brother would prove so 
good a scholar? Eeceiving an affirmative 
reply, the prince exclaimed, " Then I will 
make Charles Archbishop of Canterbury." 

King James once asked him which he 
thought the most excellent verses in Virgil, 
He repeated these : 

" Rex erat ^neas nobis, quo justior alter 
Nee prietate fuit, nee bello major et in armis." 



HIS MARTIAL TASTES. 335' 

Henry the Fourtli, of France, appreciated 
his namesake's great qualities at an early- 
period, and directed his ambassador to pay 
him particular attention. " He is a prince 
who promises much/' wrote that ambassador, 
" and whose favour cannot but one day be of 
advantage.'' And when Henry had sent the 
young Dauphin some English dogs as a gift, 
the ambassador recommended that in return he 
should be presented with " a suit of armour 
well gilt and enamelled, together with pistols, 
and a sword of the same kind ; and if to these 
be added," he continues, " a couple of horses, 
one of which goes well, and the other a barb, 
it will be a singular favour done to the 
Prince." 

He appears to have nourished the project 
of recovering Calais, whose loss had always 
been a source of national irritation. When 
the Prince de Joinville returned to France, 
Henry sent over an engineer in his train with 
orders to secretly examine the defences of the 
coveted seaport, and especially those of Eix- 
Banc. He was accustomed to take long walks 
on foot that he might be able to endure the 
fatigue of protracted marches. His interest 
in naval affairs was very great, and it was 



336 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

principally at his instance that the ships 
Besolution and Discovery were despatched, in 
1612, to explore a north-west passage to China. 
Of Phineas Pitt, our first great naval archi- 
tect, he was the steadfast patron. 

III. HIS PATRIOTIC ARDOUR. 

The French ambassador coming one day to 
take leave of him, found him practising with, 
the pike, and inquired if he could deliver any 
message from him to the king his master? 
" Tell him," replied Henry, " how you saw 
me employed.'' — It was reported to him that 
the French king had declared that his bastard, 
as well as the bastard of a Duke of Nor- 
mandy, might conquer England. "I'll to 
cuffs with him," exclaimed Henry, " if he go 
about any such means." — James the First 
once asked him whether he loved Englishmen 
or Frenchmen the better ? " Englishmen,'* 
he replied, " because I am of kindred to more 
noble persons of England than of France.'' 
— He could never be induced to betray any 
special partiality for either portion of his 
future kingdom. A nobleman inquired of him 
whether he would rather be king of England 



HIS PATRIOTIC ARDOUR. 337 

or Scotland ? " Which of them is best ?" he 
said, and on being answered " England," re- 
joined, " Then would I have both !" In the 
same spirit, when reading in Virgil, the line — 

" Tros Tyriusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur," 

He said that with a slight alteration it would 
suit himself: — 

** Anglus Scotusve mihi nullo discrimine agetur." 

The prince, on another occasion, when 
practising archery, enquired of a courtier who 
stood near him, at what mark he should shoot. 
The courtier gaily pointed at a Welshman 
who was present. '' Will you see then," said 
the Prince, '' how I will shoot at Welshmen ?" 
and turning his back upon him he shot his 
arrows in the air. 

A dish of jelly being placed before him in 
the form of a crown, with three lilies, a jester, 
who was a favorite with the Prince, observed 
that its value was just one crown. '' Ay," 
cried Henry, '' and I would I had that 
crown!'* referring to the FrenGh fleurs-de-lis. 
'' It would be a great dish,'' said the jester. 
'' How can that be," retorted the Prince, 
" since you value it but a crown." 

VOL. I. Q 



338 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK, 



IV. HIS READY WIT. 

His plijsician told him that lie rode too 
fast. He replied, " Must I ride by rules of 
physic ?" When he was eating a cold capon 
in cold weather, he was warned that it was 
not fit meat for the weather. " You may see, 
doctor,*' said Henry, " that my cook is no 
astronomer.'* 

A Welshman, warm with wine, exclaimed 
in the King's presence that there were 40,000 
men in the Principality who would sacrifice 
their lives for the prince against any king in 
Christendom. James hastily inquired, " To 
do what ?" Henry averted the royal jealousy 
by his ready reply, " To cut off the heads of 
40,000 leeks." 

A musician having played an extempora- 
neous piece with which his audience were 
enthusiastically delighted, was pressed to 
repeat it. " I could not," said he, " for the 
kingdom of Spain ; for this were harder than 
for a preacher to repeat word by word a ser- 
mon that he had not learned by rote." A 



HIS READY WIT. 339 

clergyman present observed that lie did not 
think this impossible. "Perhaps not/' re- 
joined Henry, '' for a bishopric !" 

On one occasion, being desirous of enjoy- 
ing a thorough game at play with his young 
companions, he excluded all the men from 
his chamber ; but an old servitor, who was 
ignorant of the prohibition, having entered, 
he gave him leave to remain. He was asked 
why he admitted the graybeard rather than 
any of the other men. " Because," said the 
prince, " he has a right to be of our number, 
for senex bis puer'^ — (An old man is twice a 
child). 

A servant having cut the prince's finger, 
and sucked the blood from the cut with his 
mouth, that it might the more rapidly heal, 
Henry remarked pleasantly, '^ If, which God 
forbid ! my father, myself, and the rest of his 
kindred should fail, you might claim the 
crown, for you have in you now some of the 
blood-royal." 

His acute intellect was peculiarly averse 
to flattery. Once, when he wore white shoes, 
and a sycophantic courtier said he should like 
to kiss his foot, he replied, " Sir, I am not the 

q2 



340 PEINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

Pope/' " Nay," said the courtier, " I would 
not kiss the pope's foot, except it were to 
bite off his great toe." The prince replied, 
coldlj, '' At Eome you would be glad to kiss 
his foot, and forget the rest.*' 

" It was then the mode,'* says D'Israeli, 
'' when the king or the prince travelled, to 
sleep with their suite at the houses of the 
nobility ; and the loyalty and zeal of the host 
were usually displayed in the reception given 
to the royal guest. It happened that in one 
of these excursions the prince's servants com- 
plained that they had been obliged to go to 
bed supperless, through the pinching parsi- 
mony of the house ; which the little prince, 
at the time of hearing, seemed to take no 
great notice of. The next morning the lady 
of the house coming to pay her respects to 
him, she found him turning over a volume 
that had many pictures in it, one of which 
was a painting of a company sitting at a ban- 
quet: this he showed her. "I invite you, 
madam, to a feasf " To what feast?'' she 
asked. '' To this feast," said the boy. "What! 
would your highness give me but a painted 
feast ?" Fixing his eye on her, he said, " No 



HIS EELIGIOUS TENDENCIES. 341 

better, madam, is found in this house." There 
was a delicacy and greatness of spirit in this 
ingenious reprimand far excelling the wit of 
a child." * 

Of Sir Walter Raleigh's imprisonment in 
the Tower he observed, that '' no king but 
his father would keep such a bird in such a 
cage.'^ 

V. HIS RELIGIOUS TENDENCIES. 

Prince Henry was as earnestly opposed to 
the Roman Catholic church as he was pas- 
sionately attached to the Reformed religion, 
notwithstanding the influence which his mo-, 
ther endeavoured to exercise upon his youth- 
ful mind. According to gossipping Bishop 
Burnet, when King James desired to marry 
him to one of the popish princesses of Savoy, 
he wrote to his father, and entreated, that if 
it were intended so to dispose of him, he might 
be wedded to the younger princess of the two, 
for he should then have more hopes of her 
conversion. The Puritans placed all their 
trust and confidence in him, and eagerly anti- 
cipated his accession to the throne as herald- 

* Curiosities of Literature. 



342 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

ing destruction to Anti-Christ. The follow- 
ing couplet was very popular at the time : — 

" Henry the Eighth pulled down the abbeys and cells ; 
But Henry the Ninth shall pull down bishops and bells." * 

He was very regular in his attendance at 
Divine worship, and retired thrice a-day to 
pray in private. Had he lived, it was his 
design to select the most learned and pious of 
his chaplains, and abide by their advice in 
all matters of conscience. 

He had the greatest aversion to an oath, in 
which, indeed, as in many other particulars, 
he was diametrically the opposite of his 
father. He never swore himself, nor kept in 
his service any person who did.f A box was 
kept at each of his residences — Nonsuch, 
Eichmond, and iSt. James's — wherein the 
fines collected from those of his household 
detected in swearing were deposited, and at 
stated times the proceeds were distributed 
among the poor. On one occasion, when 
pursuing the chase, the stag chanced to cross 
a road in the vicinity of a butcher and his 
dog. The dog killed the stag, whose carcase 
proved too heavy for the butcher to carry 

* Nugse Antiquse. t Birch. 



A POKTRAIT. 343 



away. The huntsmen coming up complained 
to the prince of the butcher's conduct, and 
when Henry observed that the dog was to 
blame, and not the man, replied, " If your 
father had been here, he would have sworn 
so that no man could have endured it." 
"Away,'' exclaimed the prince, " all the 
pleasure in the world is not worth an oath !" 



VI. PORTRAIT OF THE PRINCE. 

By Sir Charles Cornwallis : — " He was of 
comely, tall, middle-stature, about five feet 
and eight inches high ; of a strong, straight, 
well-made body, with somewhat broad shoul- 
ders, and a small waist, of an amiable majestic 
countenance, his hair of an auburn colour, 
long faced, and broad forehead, a piercing 
grave eye, a most gracious smile, with a 
terrible frown.""' 

By the French Ambassador (Mons. de 
Boderie), October, 1696 : — " He is a particu- 
lar lover of horses, and what belongs to 
them, but is not fond of hunting ; and when 
he goes to it, it is rather for the pleasure of 
galloping, than that which the dogs give him. 

* Harleian Miscellany. 



344 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

He plays willingly enough at tinns, and at 
another Scot's diversion very like mall ; but 
this always with persons older than himself, 
as if he despised those of his own age. He 
studies two hours a day, and employs the 
rest of his time in tossing the pike or leaping, 
or shooting with the bow, or throwing the 
bar, or vaulting, or some other exercise of 
that kind, and he is never idle. He shows 
himself likewise very good-natured to his 
dependants, and supports their interests 
against any persons whatever, and pushes 
what he undertakes for them or others with 
such zeal as gives success to it. For, besides 
his exerting his whole strength to compass 
what he desires, he is already feared by those 
who have the management of affairs, and 
especially the Earl of Salisbury, who appears 
to be greatly apprehensive of the prince's 
ascendant, as the prince, on the other hand, 
shows little esteem for his lordship.'' 



HOUSEHOLD DETAILS. 345 

III. 
HIS COURT. 

i. Prince Henry held his court at St. 
James's, which was specially appropriated 
to his service. It was so numerously atten- 
ded by the elite of the nobles and gentlemen 
of England, that king James's jealous appre- 
hensions were aroused, and he once exclaimed 
''Will he bury me alive?" In 1610, his 
household consisted of four hundred and 
twenty-six persons, of whom two hundred 
and ninety-seven received regular salaries. 
At their head was Sir Thomas Chaloner, 
whose reward was ^^^ 13s. 4d. per annum, 
with his diet. Dr. Hammond, his chaplain, 
and his two yeomen, Wilson and Bower, had 
each £100 yearly. His librarian was paid 
£30 ; his barber £20, with £48 13s. 4d. for 
board wages, and ^"^^ 13s. 4d. for living. 

ii. A pamphlet is extant which sets forth 
the regulations of his household, and the 
duties of its different members ; a very 
curious illustration of manners and customs 
in the reigns of the Stuarts. His grooms are 

Q 5 



346 PEINCE HENKY FKEDERICK. 

cautioned not to appear in their master's pre- 
sence with unbuttoned doublets, or hose un- 
tied. They are bound to lie nightly on a 
pallet in the privy-chamber, and to take care 
that every room is strewn with fresh rushes, 
and well-aired before the prince leaves his 
own apartment. When he is away from 
home every chamber is to be kept close locked; 
and when he is at study, due precautions 
must be taken to secure him from any dis- 
turbance. The servants are enjoined to 
refrain from lewd conduct and evil- speaking, 
and those who are so unfortunate as to 
possess no change of linen or apparel are 
forbidden to sleep in the prince's house. 

iii. He will dine — according to these 
minute regulations — at half-past ten, and sup 
at half-past five. The gates close for the 
night at nine o'clock, and each servant must 
attend prayers at least once a day. Women 
of questionable reputation must not be al- 
lowed to linger " about the stables ;" busy- 
bodies and purloiners of kitchen-stuff are also 
" warned off'' the royal premises ; and it is 
required that every official in the prince's 
household should take the Sacrament at least 



MARRIAGE OFFERS. 347 

" four times in the year," though " once a 
month" is strongly recommended. From 
these and other rules it would appear that 
Prince Henry was quite as anxious about the 
moral welfare and spiritual condition of his 
officers and servants, as about their and his 
own domestic comfort and household pro- 
vision. 

iv. A prince of such promise, and heir to 
the crown of England, Scotland and Ireland, 
was necessarily an object of high interest to 
those sovereigns of Europe who had marriage- 
able daughters. France was especially de- 
sirous to contract an alliance between Prince 
Henry and the Princess Christine, and of- 
fered with the lady a dowry of 50,000 crowns. 
As neither King James nor his son displayed 
any eagerness to accept the offer, the dowry 
was increased to 70,000 crowns. The nego- 
tiations were protracted to such a length that 
Henry died before any satisfactory result was 
attained. Nor does he appear to have been 
very susceptible to female influence. Sir 
Charles Cornwallis says that though the finest 
women of the court and the city attended his 
entertainments, the Prince showed no incli- 



348 PKINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

nation for any particular beauty. The only 
lady who appears to have attracted his ad- 
miration and retained it for any lengthened 
periud was the lovely but frail Countess of 
Essex, and in this case the profligate Somer- 
set was his successful rival. Though of a 
warm and impassioned temperament, his life 
was regulated by the strictest prudence, and 
his religious tendencies made him the idol of 
the English puritans. This sense of duty 
was as great as his father's want of it. In 
strength of will and purity of thought he was 
the very reverse of the weak and vicious 
King, and abhorred with all the conscious- 
ness of a virtuous soul his father's abandoned 
and dissolute minions. The good, and the 
wise, and the learned sought in him, therefore, 
their friend and patron, and anticipated in 
his reign a Golden Age for the three king- 
doms. On one occasion, when leaving the 
downs at Newmarket, to retire to their respec- 
tive mansions, the Prince was followed by a 
brilliant train of nobles and gentlemen, while 
the King rode off unaccompanied, save by 
his servants. The difference was sarcastically 
pointed out to James by the court-fool, 



THE KING^S JEALOUSY. 349 

Archie, and so keenly was it appreciated by 
the weak and timorous sovereign that he 
burst into a passion of tears. " The king," 
says a contemporary writer, " was much an- 
noyed to find that all the work which he had 
imagined to belong to himself, was wholly 
lost in the hopes which the people entertained 
for his son." For this reason he sedulously 
excluded him from the smallest share of 
political power, and would not allow him to 
take the slightest part in the government of 
the kingdom."' ' 

* We quote the following from "A Eelation of Prince Henry's 
noble and virtuous disposition, etc.," in the Harleian MSS.: — 

" It cannot be denied that he was exceedingly observant, never 
failing to sacrifice unto God the first of his actions; to continue in 
them with all demonstration of reverence, without any diversion or 
distraction ; to cherish such, in whom he found ability to teach^ and 
piety to express in life the fruits of their doctrine, to resolve, so far 
to become immutable in the religion he professed, as, long before his 
end, with solemn protestations he vowed that he would never join in 
marriage with a wife of a difi'erent faith ; and had, besides, a deter- 
mination (if longer he had lived) to have made choice of a chaplain of 
his own, a man ia years, grave in divinity, rarely learned, and of 
great discretion, experience, and wisdom; by whose advice, in all 
matters spiritual, and tending to the rectifying of the soul, he in- 
tended to have received a continual direction 

" Plenty and magnificence were the things that in his house he 
especially afi'ected ; but not without such a temper as might agree 
with the rules of frugality and moderation. He caused to be put 
down in writing unto him, the several heads of all his annual charges, 
the ordinary expence of his house and his stables, the charge of his 
apparel and wardrobe, his rewards of all such other things as yearly 
were to be issued out of his coffers ; and, comparing them with his 
annual revenue, did so j adiciously fashion and proportion them (by 
shortening what he found superfluous, and increasing what was 
wanting, and too short in any of them), as he reduced them to a 
certainty, and such as his revenues would well defray; besides a 
yearly spare of some thousands of pounds, which he reserved for a 
store or treasure to be ready for all events and occasions accidental. 



350 PRINCE HENKY FREDERICK, 



By giving of whicli so good and solid foundation and order unto his 
state, he delivered himself from all necessity of becoming rigid or 
strait to his tenants ; either by any unmeasurable improving their 
farms or their fines, or seeking or taking advantage of any of their 
forfeitures, and become also unnecessitated to take the benefit that 
both law and right afforded unto him of such as had in time of 
former princes purchased lands appertaining to his Duchy of Corn- 
wall; which could not by law be alienated from the same, to whom, 
out of his princely bounty, and gracious compassion, upon resuming 
of them, he gave some reasonable satisfaction. The banquets and 
feasts that any time he made, his desire was, should be magnificent 
and agreeing with his princely dignity ; yet not without an especial 
eye, and care had, that nothing should be spent in disorder, or the 
charge made greater through the want of providence, or well- 
managing by his officers : in those he ever affected the demonstration 
of a princely greatness, and that all things should pass with decency 
and decorum, and without all rudeness, noise, or disorder. In any- 
thing either committed or permitted unto him, by the King his 
father concerning the state and defence of the kingdom, exceedingly 
willing, sedulous, and careful he ever shewed himself, to perform all 
offices and duties understandingly, and with much circumspection. 
He was once sent by his Majesty to take a view of the navy at Chat- 
ham, whither myself waited upon him, and observed how great his 
desire was, not only to see with his own eyes every particular ship, 
but to enable himself by conference and consultation with the best 
experienced of his Majesty's officers of the navy, in the fashion and 
fabrication of the ships ; to understand their strengths and form of 
their sailing ; to take knowledge of such as were then perfected and 
fitted for present service ; and which defected, and in what several 
parts : to the end there might instantly be order given for the repair- 
ing of them. He also very particularly informed himself of their 
several equipages and furnitures; went in person to take an exact 
view of them and of his Majesty's store for that purpose ; and would 
not be satisfied without understanding the special uses of every of 
those things, and of all other that tended to make them serviceable 
and useful. What further in years more ripe was in naval affairs, 
wherein consisted the principal strength, honour, and advantage of 
this kingdom, to be expected of him, may easily be discerned by hi& 
will, his diligence, his understanding, his princely courage, delivered 
unto him by a servant of his own, concerning a naval war with Spain, 
whensoever that King shall give cause of a public hostility. . . . 

"He so distributed the day, by dividing his hours into the service 
of God, to the fitting himself to the office he was born unto, both in 
government civil and military, and to necessary exercises and recrea- 
tions ; as no part of it could be said to be in vain bestowed. To enable 
his knowledge in government civil, he read histories ; the knowledge 
of things past, conducing much to resolution in things present, and 
to prevention of those to come. In the military, he added thereunto 
the mathematicks, study of cosmography, and had one that instructed 
him in the matter and form of fortifications. 

"For practice, he used in a manner daily to rido and manage great 
horses, with which he had his stables most excellently furnished ; 
oftentimes to run at the ring, and sometimes at tilt, both which he 
so well and dextrously performed. 

"It is true, that he was of a high mind, and knew well how to 



THE prince's illness. 351 



IV. 



HIS ILLNESS, AND DEATH. 



i. The old poets were very fond of dwell- 
ing upon tlie uncertainties of life ; 

" The glories of our birth and state 
Are shadows, not substantial things ;" 

and of pointing out that the most brilliant 
careers are usually the briefest; that the 
burst of dazzling sunshine is succeeded by the 
deep dull darkness, that the brightest lightning 
issues from the densest cloud. In Prince 
Henry they might have found a remarkable 
illustration. His career of such abundant 
promise and auspicious hopefulness was termi- 



keep his distance, which, indeed, he did to all ; neither admitting a 
near or full approach either to his power or his secrets. He was of a 
comely personage, of indifferent stature, well and straight limbed, 
and strongly proportioned ; his countenance and aspect inclining, in 
those his young years, to gravity and show of majesty. His judg- 
ment, so far beyond what his age could promise, that it was truly 
admirable. His speech slow, and somewhat impedimented ; rather, 
as I conceive, by custom and a long imitation of some that did first 
instruct him, than by any defect in nature, as appeared by much 
amendment of the same, after that he had been advised to a more 
often exercise of it, by using at home, amongst his own servants, 
first short discourses, and after longer, as he should find himself 
enabled." 



352 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

nated suddenly. He was taken ill on tlie last 
Sunday in October ; lie died on the 5th Novem- 
ber, 1612. Something of suspicion, however, 
had been excited by his appearance as early 
as September, when he was present at divine 
service one Sunday, at the king^s house of 
Havering-atte-Bower. " Some of us did say," 
writes Bishop Goodman, " looking upon 
Prince Henry, and finding that his counten- 
ance was not so cheerful as it was wont to be, 
but had heavy darkish looks, with a kind of 
mixture of melancholy and choler ; some of 
us did then say that certainly he had some 
great distemper in his body, which we 
thought might proceed from eating of raw 
fruits, peaches, musk melons, &c. A while 
after, we heard that he was sick." The Prince 
Palatine of Bohemia soon afterwards arrived 
in England, on the occasion of his nuptials 
with Prince Henry's lovely and unfortunate 
sister, the Princess Elizabeth, to whom Prince 
Henry was passionately attached, and during 
his residence in London the latter exerted 
himself greatly to promote his amusement. 
The fatigue was probably too much for him, 
and while dining with the King and Prince 



THE prince's illness. 353 

Palatine at Whitehall, on the last Sunday in 
October, he suddenly turned pale, and was 
removed in a fainting condition to St. James's. 
There he lay for a whole week, unvisited by 
any of his family, save, it is said, the 
Princess Elizabeth in disguise ; and daily 
growing weaker, until his condition was evi- 
dently so perilous that the usual Sunday's 
revel was compelled to be deferred. He bore 
his illness with equanimity. Death had no 
horrors for his calm sagacious mind, and life 
without health seemed to him no boon to be 
desired. '' It was to small purpose," he said, 
" for a brave gallant man, when the prime of 
his days were over, to live till he was full 
of diseases." Bishops ministered at his bed- 
side, and he listened to their prayers and 
ejaculations with edifying piety. He soon 
appreciated the full extent of his danger, 
though the court physicians seemed ignorant 
of the nature and diagnosis of his malady. 
Dr. Butler, indeed, the great physician of the 
day, pronounced sentence of death on the suf- 
ferer the moment he was summoned to his aid. 
'' Butler's eye," says quaint Thomas Fuller, 
'' was excellent at the instant discovery of a 



354: PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

cadaverous face on whicli he would not lavish 
any art. This made him, at the first sight of 
sick Prince Henry, to get himself out of sight.'' 
Sir AValter Ealeigh, then a prisoner in the 
Tower, sent him a wonderful drauo^ht or cor- 
dial, which, he said, would effect an imme- 
diate cure, unless, indeed, poison had been 
administered to the patient. Its failure first 
suggested to the Queen the dark suspicion 
which the people afterwards caught up so 
eagerly. At all events the disease grew apace, 
and as it afflicted the head the Prince was 
often incapable of recognising his attendants, 
or joining in their prayers. He died very 
tranquilly on the 5th of November, aged only 
18 years, eight months, and seventeen days. 

ii. A curious account of the supposed causes 
of his illness is given in the Aulicus Coqui- 
narice^ which may here be presented to the 
attentive reader, with the remark that in the 
Harleian Miscellany he will find a record of 
the daily symptoms and variations of the 
disease down to its fatal termination. 

'' In the nineteenth year of his age ap- 
peared the first symptoms of change, from a 
full round face and pleasant disposition, to be 



THE prince's illness. 355 

paler and sharper, more sad and retired, often 
complaining of a giddy heaviness in his fore- 
head, which was somewhat eased by bleeding 
at the nose, and that suddenly stopping was 
the first of his distemper, and brought him to 
extraordinary qualms, which his physicians 
recovered with strong waters. 

" About this time, several ambassadors ex- 
traordinary being despatched home, he retired 
to his house at Eichmond, pleasantly seated 
by the Thames river, which invited him to 
learn to swim in the evenings after a full 
supper, the first immediate pernicious cause 
of stopping of that gentle flux of blood, which 
thereby putrefying, might engender that fatal 
fever that accompanied him to the grave. 
His active body used violent exercises ; for 
at this time, being to meet the king at Bever, 
in Nottinghamshire, he rode it in two days, 
near a hundred miles, in the extremity of heat 
in summer; for he sat out early, and came to 
Sir Oliver Cromwell's, near Huntingdon, by 
ten o'clock before noon, near sixty miles, and 
the next day betimes to Bever, forty miles. 

" There, and at other places in all that pro- 
gress, he accustomed himself to feasting, hunt- 



356 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

ing, and other sports of balloon and tennis, 
with too much violence. 

'' And now returned to Eichmond in the 
fall of the leaf, he complained afresh of his 
pain in the head, with increase of a meagre 
complexion, inclining to feverish ; and then, 
for the rareness thereof, called the new disease ; 
which increasing, on the 10th of October he 
took his chamber, and took council with his 
physician. Dr. Hammond, an honest and 
worthy learned man. Then removes to Lon- 
don to St. James's, contrary to all advice ; 
and (with a spirit above indisposition) gives 
leave to his physician to go to his own home. 

'' And so allows himself too much liberty, 
in accompanying the Palsgrave, and Count 
Henry of Nassau (who was come hither upon 
fame to see him), in a great match at tennis 
in his shirt, that winter season, his looks then 
presaging sickness. And on Sunday, the 25th 
of October, he heard a sermon, the text in 
Job, ' Man that is born of a woman, is of 
short continuance, and is full of trouble.' 
After that he presently went to Whitehall, 
and heard another sermon before the king, 
and after dinner, being ill, craves leave to 



POPULAR SUSPICIONS. 357 

retire to liis own court, where instantly he 
fell into sudden sickness, faintings, and after 
that a shaking, with great heat and headache, 
that left him not whilst he had life/' 

iii. The manner of his death, however, 
made a great impression upon the minds of 
the vulgar, who are always prone to ascribe 
the unexpected decease of one of their 
favourites to the evil agency of jealousy or 
malice. Their suspicion was countenanced 
and encouraged by many in high places. 
One of his chaplains preached a sermon at 
St. James's, in which he spoke so markedly 
of the peculiar circumstances attending the 
prince's death, that he " melted his congrega- 
tion into tears,'' and ensured his speedy dis- 
missal from his office. The queen to her last 
hour believed that her princely son had died 
of poison. And by some it was supposed that 
the poison was administerd in a bunch of 
grapes — the prince being over-fond of fruit — 
by others, that some subtle perfume had been 
communicated to a pair of gloves, which the 
warmth of the hands educed, until it became 
fatal. 

iv. A diversity of opinions prevailed with 
respect to the supposed poisoners, no less 



358 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

than Avith regard to tlie poison they employed. 
Some imagined that it was a Roman Catholic 
hand, who dreaded the effect of Prince 
Henry's steadfast Protestantism when he 
should wear the crown. There were not 
wanting audacious tongues to insinuate that 
the jealousy of King James had proved fatal 
to the brilliant promise of his heroic son. 
But this is a calumny for which no accurate 
historian has been able to discover the 
slighest reasonable basis. If Prince Henry 
was poisoned, and for our own part, we believe 
that his illness and death originated in natural 
causes, and betrayed no suspicious symptoms 
— the person who would have profited most 
by the crime, and whose bold and criminal 
malignity would not have hesitated at it, was 
Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset, the profligate 
lover of Lady Essex, and afterwards the con- 
victed murderer of Sir Thomas Overbury. 
Bishop Burnet says, he had been assured by 
Colonel Titus, who himself had been informed 
by Charles I., " that he was well assured 
Prince Henry was poisoned by the Earl of 
Somerset's means." Lord Chief Justice Coke 
ventured to hint in court, and lost the king's 
favour in consequence, that Overbury was 



AN HISTORICAL PROBLEM. 359 

murdered to prevent the discovery of Somer- 
sefs share in the Prince's death. On the 
other hand, a post mortem examination of his 
body did not reveal a trace of poison, and 
the Prince himself, throughout his illness, had 
no suspicion of it. His physicians and the 
members of his household were devotedly 
attached to him, and would hardly have 
allowed him to pass away unrevenged, had 
they imagined him the victim of a murderous 
enemy. The question, however, still remains 
one of those problems of history which may 
amuse the fancy of the ingenious inquirer, 
but whose discussion can have no profitable 
result. 

V. After the death of Prince Henry, the 
king removed from Whitehall to Theobalds, 
and Queen Anne shut herself up in an apart- 
ment hung with black, at Somerset House. 
The funeral of the " hope of England " was 
attended by a nation's lamentation, and two 
thousand mourners followed the corpse from 
St. James's to the old Abbey of Westminster. 
His life-like ^^gj^ under a canopy, and attired 
in the robes of the Prince of England, was 
the chief object in the sad procession, and 
moved many of the spectators to tears. To 



360 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 

whom, the J thought, could thej now turn 
with any reasonable hope of a bright and 
brilliant future? Who now would rescue 
them from the oppression of a profligate court, 
and the mean tyranny of a pedantic sovereign? 
Who would revive the tarnished glory and 
decaying fame of England, and make her 
terrible abroad as well as free, and happy, 
and peaceful, at home ? In the grave of that 
young prince was buried the fortune of the 
Stuart Line ! The splendours of that ill- 
fated dynasty went down with him into the 
darkness. His was the indomitable will that 
might have withstood the fierce assaults of the 
disaffected, if, indeed, his sagacious intellect 
had not disarmed them by anticipating every 
reasonable reform. Naseby and Worcester 
would probably have remained unfought, had 
Henry, and not Charles, succeeded to the 
English throne ; and the valour of cavaliers 
and roundheads have been approved upon 
distant fields and against foreign foes, under 
the victorious banner of Henry the Ninth."' 



* We extract the following singular details from a pamphlet pre- 
served in Pick's Desiderata Curiosa (lib. vi.)> " Manner of the Sick- 
ness and Death of Prince Henry, from a MS. of John More, late 
Lord Bishop of Ely" : — 

Sunday, the 1st of November, was the eighth day of Prince Henry's 
sickness. He was bled to the amount of seven or eight ounces from 



THE PRINCE S ILLNESS. 361 



Ms right arm ; " ^\xe\rxg wliicli tyme he faynted not, bleedinge well 
and abundantlye; desiringe and callinge to them to take more, as 
they were about to stop the same, finding some ease as it were uppon 
the instant," In the afternoon he was visited by the King and Queen, 
Prince Charles, his sister Elizabeth, and the Palsgrave. The night 
passed unquietly. 

On Monday, the 2nd, he became worse. The symptoms are de- 
scribed as redness of face, shortness of breath, increase of drowth> 
blackness of tongue, and excessive heat. The blood and humours 
** retyred in aboundance, with great violence, towards the brayne," 
causing much pain in the head. His spirits were depressed. " Dr. 
Atkins, a physician of London, famous for his large practice, honesty, 
and learninge, was sent for by the King ; whose opinion was that Hig 
Highness's disease was a corrupt, putrid fever, the seat whereof was 
under the liver in the first passages. This night came upon him 
greater alienation of brain, raving and idle speeches out of purpose, 
calling for his clothes, and rapier, etc. Sayinge, hee must be gone, 
hee would not staye ; and I know not what els ; to ye great griefe of 
all that heard him, whose hopes now beganne to vanishe." 

Tuesday, the 3rd. — The disease still increased. The Prince was 
seized with convulsions, raved sadly, and suffered from a more violent 
fever. Dr. Mayerne [Sir Theodore Mayerne] proposed bleeding, and 
said if he were a mean person he might be saved. But the other 
leeches disapproved, and gave him a glyster, which brought away 
*' much venomous and putrid matter." His head was now shaven, and 
''pidgeons applied to lessen and draw away the humours of that 
superfluous bloode from the head ; which he endured with wonderful 
and admirable patience." During the night his ravings were violent. 

Wednesday, the 4th. — " This daye a cock was cloven by the backe, 
and applyed to the soles of his feete. But in vayne. The cordyals 
also were redoubled in number and quantitie, but without any 
profitt." The King went to see him, but an interview was j udged 
undesirable. He was now removed to a larger and quieter chamber, 
and his malady having assumed so serious an aspect, he was attended 
by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and prayers were read by his bed- 
side. Dr. Milbourne, Dean of Rochester, officiating. The Dean from 
this time forth prayed daily with him " until his departure." 

Thursday, the 5th. — The King was made acquainted with his son's 
imminent danger, and that no hope remained except from the em- 
ployment of remedies which in themselves were dangerous. Absolute 
power was accordingly offered to Dr. Mayerne, but the shrewd physician 
wisely refused it, observing, " that it should never be said of him in 
after ages that he had killed the Kynges eldest son." He again pro- 
posed bleeding, but was overruled. More cordials were administered 
and another clyster. The Archbishop of Canterbury again visited 
him, and the Prince devoutly expressed his belief in the Church of 
England. On this day, prayers were read for him in all the churches. 
The Prince, in his agony, called several times upon his great friend. 
Sir David Murray, '°David, David," but when Sir David enquired his 
pleasure, he replied, " I would say somewhat, but I cannot utter it." 
Other physicians were now called in, and a Diascordium, tempered 
with cooler cordials, given him, but their patient grew worse during 

VOL. I. K 



362 PRINCE HENRY FREDERICK. 



the weary and watchful night. He begged that all his letters might 
be burnt, and evidently desired to make some statement of importance, 
pulling the royal chirurgeon to his side by the hair, and seeming 
sadly grieved when he could not make him understand. 

On Friday, the 6th, about three o'clock, his attendants observed a 
great change; "at which tyme there arose wonderfull great shout- 
inges, weepinge and cryinge in the chamber, courts, and adjoyning 
streetes." A cordial sent to him by Sir Walter Raleigh afforded no 
relief. 

The Archbishop of Canterbury atten'ded him in his last moments, 
and having besought him " in certaine signe of your faith and hope 
of the blessed Resurrection, give us, for our comforte, a signe by 
liftinge upp of your handes," the Prince raised his shrunken arms 
and folded palms, to the great joy and satisfaction of the byestanders. 
And so, quietly, gently, and patiently, " at half a quarter, or there- 
abouts, before 8 o'clock at night," on Friday, the 6th of November, 
1612, died Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales. 



END OF VOL. I. 



T. C. Newby, Publisher, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square. 



ANECDOTAL MEMOIRS 



ENGLISH PRINCES. 



ANECDOTAL MEMOIRS 

OF 

ENGLISH PEINCEa 



NOTICES OF CERTAIN MEMBERS OF THE ROYAL 
HOUSES OF ENGLAND. 



IN TWO VOLUMES. 



K- W. H, DAVENPORT ADAMS, 



AUTHOR OP 



^Temorabie Battles in English History," " The Sea-Kings of 
England," &c., &c. 



VOL. II. 



f0nkn: 

T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PFBLISHER, 

30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 
1863. 

[THE RIGHT OF TRANSLATION IS RESERVKD.] 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER. 

I, — Henry, Duke of Gloucester ... 

II. — James, Duke of Monmouth 
III. — James, Duke of York ... 
IV. — James Frederick Edward Stuart 

V. — Charles Edward (the Pretender) 
VI. — Frederick Louis of Hanover ... 



page. 
3—25 

26—100 
103—186 
189—202 
235—300 
303—332 



ANALYTICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER L 

• PAGE. 

HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 3—25 

1. Birth of Henry of Gloucester. — 2. Early years and resi- 
dences — 3- Interview with his father. — 4. From 
Maidenhead to Caversham. — 5. Letter from Charles 
the First to his daughter. — 6. Letter from ditto. — 7. 
The Royal children at St. James's. — 8. Plans for their 
escape — 9. Astonishment at their flight. — 10. The 
Prince's last interview with his father. — 11. Prin- 
cess Elizabeth's account of the interview. — 12. 
Emotion of Charles the First at parting with his 
children. — 13. Custody of the Royal children at 
Penshurst. — 14. Their removal to Carisbrooke Castle. 
— 15. Their maintenance. — 16. Illness and death of 
Princess Elizabeth, and return of Duke of Glou- 
cester to the Queen. — 17. Letter of Charles II. to 
his brothers. — 18. Remonstrance of Charles to the 
Queen. — 19. Gloucester's valour under the Spanish 
flag. — 20. His return to England, and death of 
James of York. 



CHAPTER IL 

JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH, NATURAL SON OF 

CHARLES II. 26-100 

1. Affection of Charles II. for Lucy Walters. — 2. James, 
Dake of Monmouth, under guardianship of Lord 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 
Crofts — 3. Acknowledgment of Duke of Monmoutli 
by King Charles. — 4 Gracefulness of his appear- 
ance. — 5. His marriage to Lady Anne Scott. — 6. His 
military capacity. — 7- Story of a street riot. — 8. 
Monmouth's distinction in 1676 and 1678. — 9. His 
action against the Scotch Covenanters. — 10 The 
height and decline of his popularity. — 11. Refusal 
of Charles to declare Monmouth legitimate. — 12. 
Important declaration of King- Charles. — 13. Mon- 
mouth's return to England, and popularity. — 14. 
Arrested by order of the King — 15. University of 
Cambridge insults Monmouth — 16. Horse race at 
French capital won by Monmouth. — 17. His implica- 
tion in the Rye House Plot — 18 The King's con- 
cealed affection for Monmouth. — 19 Monmouth's 
letter to the King, and his pardon. — 20. Yaeillating 
conduct of Monmouth towards the King-. — 20*. 
Extract from private diary of Monmouth. — 21. His 
altered position on death of Charles. — 22. His 
character, and love of ease — 23. He sails for Eng- 
land, and appeals to the people. — 24. Loyalty of the 
gentry to the King — 24*. Causes of Monmouth's 
failure — 25 Monmouth's progress to Taunton — 26. 
His second great error. — 27- Monmouth's lack of 
g-eneralship — ^28. His defeat, and flight to New 
Forest. — ^28*. Bishop of Winchester at Sedgemoor. 
— 29. Monmouth taken prisoner. — 30. His pathetic 
request for pardon. — 31. Letter to Queen Dowager. 
32. His removal to the Tower. — 33. Unrelenting 
conduct of the King. — 34. The place of Monmouth's 
interview. — 34*. His humility to the King. — 35. The 
King's letter to Prince of Orange — 36. Monmouth's 
last appeal to the King. — 37 His superstition. — 38. 
His farewell to his Duchess — 39. His preparation 
for death. — 40. The Bishop of St. Asaph's account. 
— 41. The morning of the execution. — 42. The 
Execution — 43. Hume's description of Moumouth. 
— ^14 The King's conduct after the execution.— ^15. 
Monmouth's family. 



CONTENTS. V 

CHAPTEK III. 

JAMES, DUKE OF YORK, AFTERWARDS JAMES THE 

SECOND. PAGE. 

103—186 
1. Bii*th and christening of tlie Duke. — 2 His childhood 
at St. Janaes's — S. His guardianship by Sir John 
Hotham. — 4. His guardianship by Earl of North- 
umberland. — 5. His efforts to escape. — 6. His own 
account of his escape. — 7- He reaches Holland. — 8. 
Parliamentary proceediags. — 9. His movements. — 
10. His estrangement from his mother. — 11- Com- 
mencement of his military career. — 12. His valour 
and zeal. — 13. Joins the Spanish army. — 14. His 
marriage with Anne Hyde. — 15 Anne Hyde. — 16. 
Opposition to his marriage. — 17- Celebration of the 
marriage. — 18. His unfaithfalness, and mistresses — 
19. War with the Dutch — 20. Declaration of war, 
and naval battle — 21. Defeat of the Dutch : An 
historical mystery. — 22 Probable solution of the 
mystery — 23 The Duke's partial retirement. — 24. 
Death of his wife. — 25. Her change of religion. — 28. 
Character of the Duchess —27- The Duke's marriage 
by proxy to daughter of Duke of Modena — 28. Their 
first meeting — 29. The Duke's attachment to Romish 
religion. — 30. His unpopularity and retirement. — 
31. Protestant attempt against the Duke- — 32. Ee- 
call of the Duke to England —33 The Duke's 
rigour in Scotland — 34. Death of Charles, and 
accession of the Duke. — 35 His increasing popu- 
larity— 36. The policy of the King— -37. His 
partiality for the chase — '38. His cruelty and 
bigotry. — 39 Manoeavres of the Romish priests. — 
40 Revival of the High Commission. — 41. Impri- 
sonment of the Seven Bishops — 42. Birth of a 
Prince of Wales — 43 Suspicious circumstance ; 
the warming-pan story — 44 An epigram, and a 
thanksgiving — 45- Escape of the Queen and Prince. 
46. The King deserted by his children. — 47. He 
attempts to escape. — 48 The secret revealed. — 49. 
James is detained at Faversham. — 50. Returns to the 
metropolis. — ^51 Quits Whitehall. — 52. Escapes from 



VI CONTENTS. 



Rochester and reaclaeg France; a farewell.— 53. 
Father Con's letter. 



PAGE. 



The Battle op the Boyne 166—176 

1. James provided with an army — 2. Embarks at 
Brest. — 3. Arrives off Kinsale. — 4. Enters Dublin ; 
his proceedings — 5. Movements of the hostile 
armies — 6. Battle of Bantry Bay. — 7. William lands 
in Ireland — 8. James encamps upon the Boyne. — 9. 
Supposed death of King William. — 10. Battle of the 
Boyne ; defeat, and flight of James. 

Last Scenes 176—186 

1. Victory off Cape La Hogue ; James abandons all 
hopes of recovering his crown. — 2. Death of Qaeen 
Mary. — 3. The King's illness; narrative of his last 
days and death. — 4. His monument and epitaph at 
St. Germain's. — 5. His children. 



CHAPTER IV. 

PBINCE JAMES FREDERICK EDWARD STUART, 
A.D. 1688—1761. 



L— His Early Years 189—202 

1 and 2. Unfortunate circumstances of his birth. — 
3. Parting between the King and Queen. — 4. An 
incident at Lambeth— 5. The Queen arrives in Paris ; 
Louis XIV. recognizes James III — 6. Mimicry of 
kingly state — 7- Accession of Queen Anne. — 8. An 
invasion of Scotland projected. — 9. The expedition 
sails from Dunkirk — 10. A skirmish at sea. — 11. 
The expedition returns unsuccessful. 

XL— The Campaign of 1715 203—222 

1. The Chevalier serves at Malplaquet. — 2 State of 
affairs in England. — 3. He retires to Lorraine ; 
corresponds with Queen Anne. — 4. The Queen's 



CONTENTS. VU 



PAGE. 



death a severe blow to his hopes ■ — 5- Accession of 
George I. ; state of parties in England — 6. Boling- 
broke's opinion of the Chevalier's court — T. The 
Chevalier's designs ; preparations of the govern- 
ment — 8. The gathering of the clans. — 9. The 
standard of James III. raised at Braemar — 10. 
Movements of the Earl of Mar and Duke of Argyle. 
11. Battle of Sheriffmuir.— 12. The Chevalier lands 
in Scotland. — 13. Despondency. — 14. Account of an 
eye-witness ; impotent conclusion of the enter- 
prise. 

III. — Closing Scenes 

1. Dismissal of Bolingbroke. — 2. The Chevalier 
retires to Rome; a life of luxurious indolence. — 3. 
Marries the Princess Clementina. — 4. Her misfor- 
tunes. — 5. A Stuart disaster. — 6. Gray's sketch of 
the Chevalier. — 7- Horace Walpole's sketch. — 8. 
Keyzler's sketch. — 9. Death of the Chevalier. 



CHAPTER V. 

PRINCE CHARLES EDWARD, A.D. 1720. 235—300 

1. His birth and education. — 2. His military experience. — 
3. Serves at Dettingen; prepares to invade Scot- 
land. — 4. A dangerous journey. — 5- A failure. — 6. 
Letter to his father. — 1. Invasion of Scotland; a 
good omen. — 8. The Scotch chieftains; two ad- 
herents. — 9. Charles's interview with Lochiel. — 10. 
He raises his standard at Glengillan. — 11. The raising 
of the standard by Sir Walter Scott. — 12. Men in 
authority. — 13. Enthusiasm of the Highlanders. — 
14. Dissensions in the Prince's councils — 15. He 
visits the Palace at Scoon. — 16. Military move- 
ments; the Canter of Coltbrigg. — 17- Charles ad- 
vances. — 18. Battle of Preston Pans. — 19. Continua- 
tion of ditto. — 20. Apparent success ; hoUowuess of 
the base. — 21. Invasion of England. — 22. Further 



Vlll CONTENTS. 



progress. — 23- Charles is constrained to retreat. — 
24. The retreat. — 25. Movements of the Duke of 
Cumberland,— 26. Character of the Duke.— 27- He 
pursues the rebels — 28. Battle of Culloden. — 29 and 
30. Continuation of ditto. — 31. The tears of Scot- 
land— 32. After the fight —33, 34, 35, and 36. Par- 
ticulars of Charles's escape. — 37- His character — 38. 
An unhappy marriage — 39. His last years and 
death. — 40. Cardinal York, the last of the Stuarts. 



PAGE. 



CHAPTER VI. 

PRINCE FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 303—332 

Different estimates of his character. — 2. The juste milieu. 
— 3. Political position of a Prince of Wales. — 4. 
— Birth and training of Frederick Louis. — 5. Dukes 
of Gloucester — 6. A Prussian Match. — 7- Frederick's 
position in England. — 8. Filial disobedience. — 9. 
His marriage — 10. A court scandal. — 11. Quarrel 
between George II. and his son. — 12. The Prince's 
Court. — 13. Social sketches. — 14. An anecdote. — 15. 
The Prince's illness. — 16. His death. — 17. His char- 
acter. — 18. A strange scene. — 19 A bon mot. — 20. A 
patron of art. — 21. An epigrammatic epitaph. 



CHAPTEE I. 



HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, THIRD SON OF 
CHARLES I. 



[Authorities: — Herbert's Threnodia; Rushwood's Collections; 
Clareadon's History of the Great Rebellion; Peck's Desiderata 
Curiosa; Worsley's History of the Isle of Wight; Fuller's 
Worthies ; Jesse's England under the Stuarts ; Whitelocke's 
Memorials ; Journals of the House of Commons ; Reresby's 
Diary, etc.] 



CHAPTER I. 



HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, THIRD SON OF 
CHARLES I. 

O more than human Gl6ucester, Fate did show 
Thee but to earth, and back again withdrew. 

Sir John DenJiam. 

i. Henry of Oatlands, as he is named from 
the place of his birth, was born at the ancient 
palace of Oatlands, in Surrey, on the 8th of 
July, 1639. The fortunes of his house were 
already obscured by the lurid shadow of com- 
ing events, and already there brooded in the 
horizon that terrible storm whose outbreak 
should topple crown and mitre in the dust. 
He was the third son of Charles I. and 
Henrietta Maria, but his birth was not wel- 
comed by the bursts of loyal enthusiasm and 
torrents of odes and congratulatory verses 
which had distinguished the advent of his 
elder brothers. 

VOL. II. B 



HENEY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, 



ii. He was entrusted in his infancy to the 
care of the Countess of Dorset, and on the 
death of that estimable gouvernante in 1645, 
to the charge of the Earl of Northumberland, 
in companionship with his gentle sister, the 
Princess Elizabeth. They resided for a few 
weeks at the Earl's mansion, Sion House, on 
the bank of the pleasant Thames, where by 
the order of the Parliament, they were pro- 
vided with a decent household, with physi- 
cians and chaplains, gentlemen-ushers, French 
masters, pages, cotferesses, and other atten- 
dants. The Earl received £3,000 per annum 
as a recompense for his cares, and £3,500 
was allowed for the expenses of his wards. 

From Slon House they returned to St. 
James's palace, where they were joined by 
the young Duke of York, after the fatal issue 
of the siege of Oxford. For several months 
they remained there in close retirement, hear- 
ing little of the world without, and ignorant 
of the deep dread shadows which were so 
rapidly gathering over their father's fate. 
The King, however, was not unmindful of 
them, and used every exertion to obtain an 
interview with those he so dearly loved. 



A FAMILY GROUP. O 

iil. On the 16th July (1647), the Earl of 
Northumberland accompanied the young 
prince and princess to Maidenhead. Loyalty 
was not dead in the hearts of Berkshire men 
and women, anl it was through streets 
brightly dressed with flowers and thronged 
with sympathising faces that they made their 
way. At eleven o^clock, and at the Grey- 
hound Inn, they were joined by King 
Charles. The interview was one of tender 
interest. To the young Duke, whom his 
father had not seen for years, he said, " Do 
you know me, child ?" The prince, wonder- 
ing, replied, "No.'' ''I am your father, 
child," the King continued ; " and it is not 
one of the least of my misfortunes that I have 
brought you, and your brothers and sisters, 
into the world, to share my miseries."* 

iv. From Maidenhead the royal children 
went to Caversham, a sunny village on the 
leafy banks of the river, where they abode 
for two happy days, much to their content- 
ment. 

V. During the king's detention at Hampton 
Court, he was several times permitted to see 

* WMteloeke. 



6 HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

them. On these occasions Cromwell was 
often present, and it has been recorded that he 
alone, of all the Commonwealth leaders, bent 
the knee to the sons and daughter of the 
sovereign. A tender correspondence was 
carried on between the king and the princess 
Elizabeth, — a maiden of extraordinary pro- 
mise, — of which a specimen or two may be 
afforded — * 

" Hampton Court, 

"27th October, 1647. 
"Dear Daughter, — 

" This is to assure you that It is not 
through forgetfulness, or any want of kynde- 
nes, that I have not, all this tyme, sent for 
you, but for such reasons as is fitter for you to 
imagen (which you may easily doe), than 
me to wryte ; but now I hope to see you, upon 
Fryday or Saturday next, as your brother 
James can more particularly tell you, to 
whom referring you, I rest your loving father, 

" Charles E." 

vi. Equally tender in tone is the following, 
written at a later period : — 

* Sir Henry Ellis's Original Letters. 



A ROYAL LETTER. 7 

" Newport (I. of Wight), 

" 14th October, 1648. 
" Dear Daughter, — 

" It is not want of affection that makes 
me wryte so seldome to you, but want of 
matter such as I could wish, and indeed I am 
loathe to write to those I love when I am out 
of humore (as I have beene these dayes by 
past), least my letters should troble those I 
desyre to please 5 but having this opportunity 
I would not loose it, though at this time I 
have nothing to say, but God bless you. So 
I rest, your loving father, 

"Charles E. 
" Give your brother my blessing with a 
kisse ; and comend me kyndly to my Lady 
Northumberland by the same token." 

vii. The condition of the king's affairs, in 
the spring of 1647, was so threatening, that 
the adherents of the royal family deemed it 
necessary to remove the young Duke of York 
out of the reach of the chiefs of the Parlia- 
mentarian party. The king, while at Hampton 
Court, had foreseen that such a step might be 
needful, and had bidden him " when a fit op- 
portunity offered, to make his escape beyond 



8 HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

the seas/' The royal children, at this time, re- 
sided at St. James's, " where they had the 
liberty of the garden and park to walk and 
exercise themselves in, and lords and ladies, 
and other persons of condition, were not re- 
strained from resorting thither to visit them.""' 
One Colonel Bamfield, ^' a man of an active 
and insinuating nature," made use of this 
permission to devise a means of escape, which 
was successfully accomplished on the 20th of 
April, 1648, under circumstances that dis- 
played no ordinary intelligence and powers 
of self-command on the part of the youthful 
prince. They are thus narrated in the Stuart 
papers : — 

vii. " All things being in readiness on the 
night of the aforementioned day, the Duke 
went to supper at his usual hour, which was 
about seven, in the company of his brother 
and sister, and, when supper was ended, they 
went to play at hide and seek with the rest 
of the young people in the house. At this 
childish sport the Duke had accustomed him- 
self to play for a fortnight together every night, 
and had used to hide himself in places so dif- 
ficult to fiild, that most commonly they were 

* Clarendon. 



A PLAN OF ESCAPE. 9 

lialf an liour in searching for him ; at the 
end of which time he came usually out to 
them of his own accord. This blind he laid 
for his design, that they might be accustomed 
to miss him, before he really intended his 
escape ; by which means, when he came to 
practice it in earnest, he was secure of gaining 
that half-hour, before they could reasonably 
suspect he was gone. 

. '* His intention had all the effect he could 
desire ; for that night, so soon as they began 
their play, he pretended, according to his 
custom, to hide himself. But instead of so 
doing, he went first into his sister's chamber, 
and then locked up a little dog that used to 
follow him, that he might not be discovered 
by him; then, slipping down by a pair of 
back stairs, which led into the inmost garden, 
having found means beforehand to furnish 
himself with a key of a back-door firom the 
said garden into the park, he there found 
Bamfield, who was ready to receive him, and 
waited there with a footman who brought a 
cloak, which he threw over him and put on a 
periwig. From thence they went through 
the Spring Garden, where one Mr. Tripp was 

B 5 



10 HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

ready with a hackney coach, which carried 
them as far as Salisbury House. There the 
Duke went out of the coach with Bamfield, 
as if he had intended some visit in that house, 
and Tripp went forward with the coach, hav- 
ing received directions to drive into the city, 
and keep the coach as long as he could con- 
veniently at that end of the town. But when 
they were gone, the Duke and Bamfield went 
down Ivy Lane, where they took boat, and 
landed again on the same side of the river 
close by the bridge. From thence they went 
into the house of one Loe, a surgeon, where 
they found Mrs. Murray, who had women^s 
clothes in readiness to disguise the Duke. 
Being immediately dressed in them, he de- 
parted thence, attended by Bamfield and his 
footman to Lion-key, where there awaited a 
barge of four oars, into which they entered, 
and so went down the river, the tide serving 
for the passage. 

" They were no sooner in the barge than 
the master began to suspect somewhat ; for 
when Bamfield bespoke his attendance there 
with his barge, he had only told him he was 
to bring a friend, but now, finding a young 
woman was brought without other company, 



AN ALARM, 11 

it made him jealous there was something 
more in the business than he had first ima- 
gined ; the consideration of which did so much 
afifright him, that his whole discourse in going 
down was employed in telling them, it was 
impossible to pass by the Blockhouse, at 
Gravesend, without discovery, and that they 
had no other way to get on board the ship, 
which waited for them in the Hope, than to 
land at Gravesend, and there to procure a 
pair of oars to carry them on ship-board. 
And when Bamfield debated the matter with 
him, showing the difficulty and hazard of 
procuring a boat which should convey them 
to their ship, he raised new objections of his 
own danger, from the shining of the moon 
and other inconveniences. But while they 
two were thus reasoning the matter, the 
master of the barge became fully satisfied, 
concerning those suspicions which he had, 
that this woman was some disguised person of 
considerable quality ; for peeping through a 
cranny of the door into the barge-room, where 
there was a candle burning before the Duke, 
he perceived His Koyal Highness laying his 
leg upon the table, and plucking up his 
stocking in so unwomanship a manner, that 



12 HENEY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

he concluded his former surmises of him were 
undoubted truths, as he afterwards acknow- 
ledged to them/* 

viii. It now became necessary to make this 
inquisitive navigator a confidant of their ad- 
venture, and to bribe him to secrecy — a task 
which was successfully accomplished, and 
instead of landing them at Gravesend, he 
dropped quietly down the river, and put them 
on board the Dutch vessel which lay in ex- 
pectation of them. After a brief voyage they 
landed in safety at Middleburg. 

ix. When the Duke's flight became 
known, all London was convulsed with 
astonishment. The Lords sent a message to 
the Commons, in which they thus described 
the circumstances : — " The duke, with his 
brother, the Duke of Gloucester, and his sister, 
the Lady Elizabeth, being sporting by them- 
selves after supper, the Duke privately slipt 
from 'em down the back stairs, without either 
cloke or coat ; and having the key of the 
garden door, passed through the park, and 
so away.'' Every precaution was taken that 
the other royal children should not follow his 
example, and they were removed from St. 
James's to Sion House, under the charge of 



HIS EDUCATION. 13 

the Earl of Northumberland. Shortly after- 
wards they were intrusted to the guardianship 
of the Countess of Leicester, and remained in 
the old mansion on the Thames, courteously 
attended, and in all things provided for ac- 
cording to their rank. The young Duke's 
tutor was a Mr. Lovel, a man of eminent abi- 
lities, sound acquirements, and unostentatious 
piety, who taught his pupil the principles of 
political economy, and confirmed his youthful 
attachuient to the Protestant faith, while sup- 
erintending his studies in Latin, French, and 
Italian, and the ordinary branches of literature 
and science. 

X. The Prince was not ten years old when 
summoned, on the morning of the 29th of 
January, 1649, to his last interview with his 
royal father ; an interview which made a last- 
ing impression on his mind, and became the 
grave sad memory of his future life. It has 
been described by the Princess Elizabeth, in 
language of touching simplicity, with which 
we cannot refuse to adorn our pages. 

xi. '' What the King said to me 29th of 
January last^ being the last time I had the hap- 
piness to see him : — 



14 HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

" He told me that lie was glad I was come, 
for^ though he had not time to say much, yet 
somewhat he wished to say to me, which he 
could not to another, and he had feared ' the 
cruelty' was too great to permit his writing. 
' But, sweetheart,' he added, ' thou wilt forget 
what I tell thee.' Then shedding abundance 
of tears, I told him that I would write down 
all he said to me. ' He wished me,' he said, 
' not to grieve and torment myself for him, for 
it was a glorious death he should die, it being 
for the laws and religion of the land.' He 
told me what books to read against Popery. 
He said, that ' he had forgiven all his enemies, 
and he hoped God would forgive them also ;' 
and he commanded us, and all the rest of my 
brothers and sisters, to forgive them also. 
Above all, he bade me tell my mother that 
' his thoughts had never strayed from her, and 
that his love for her would be the same to the 
last ;' and withal, he commanded me and my 
brother to love her, and be obedient to her. 
He desired me ' not to grieve for him, for he 
should die a martyr; and that he doubted not 
but God would restore the throne to his son, 
and that then we should be all happier than 



A FATHER S FAREWELL. 15 

we could possibly have been, if he had lived ;' 
with many other things, which I cannot re- 
member. 

" Then, taking my brother Gloucester on 
his knee, he said, ' Sweetheart, now will they 
cut off thy father's head;' upon which the 
child looked very steadfastly upon him. 
' Heed, my child, what I say : they will cut 
off my head, and perhaps make thee a King. 
But mark what I say: you must not be 
a king as long as your brother, Charles 
and James live ; therefore, I charge you, do 
not be made a king by them/ At which the 
child, sighing deeply, replied, ' I will be torn 
in pieces first.' And these words coming 
from so young a child, rejoiced my father ex- 
ceedingly; and his majesty spoke to him of 
the welfare of his soul, and to keep his relig- 
ion, commanding him to fear God, and he 
would provide for him. All which the young 
child earnestly promised. His Majesty also 
bid me send his blessing to the rest of my 
brothers and sisters, with commendations to 
all his friends. So after giving me his bless- 
ing, I took my leave."* 

xii. Many kisses, many embraces — to adopt 

♦ Reliquiae Sacrse, 337, 338.— Rushworth's Collections, vi. 



16 HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

the language wliicli the present writer has 
employed elsewhere — such kisses, such em- 
braces as Love on the threshold of the grave 
well may bestow on the loved ones, the royal 
sire lavished on his children, already father- 
less in his sad eyes. And then he called to 
good Bishop Juxon to lead them from him. 
They sobbed bitterly. The father — still a 
man, still a king — leant his head against the 
window, and strove to keep down his tears ; 
but as they passed through the door, his eyes 
chanced to light upon them, and hastening 
from the window, he folded them in one last, 
long embrace, and pressed upon their lips his 
last, long kisses, and then — cast himself upon 
his knees, and told his sorrow and his love to 
God. 

xiii. After the king's execution, the royal 
children were removed to Penshurst, the 
famous seat of the Sidneys ; their allowance 
was reduced to <£1000 per annum each ; and 
their household shorn of much of its pre- 
tensions. Orders were given that " they 
should be treated without any addition of 
titles, and that they should sit at their meat 
as the children of the family did, and all at 
one table." At Penshurst they were care- 




ARRIVAL AT CARISBROOKE. 17 

fully tended by the Countess of Leicester — 
the mother of Algernon Sidney — "who/' says 
Clarendon, " observed the order of the Par- 
liament with obedience enough, and treated 
them with as much respect as the lady pre- 
tended she durst pay to them.'' 

xiv. From the classic groves of Penshurst 
the young Duke and his sister were removed 
to the ancient pile of Carisbrooke Castle, the 
scene of their father's long captivity, in pur- 
suance of an order made by the Parliament 
for the removal of the two children of the late 
King, out of the limits of the commonwealth. 
They landed at Cowes on Thursday, the 13th 
of August, 1650, having left Penshurst on 
Friday the 9th, and reached Carisbrooke, 
after some delay, on Saturday, the 16th. 
The apartments allotted to them were suit- 
ably furnished, and they were placed under 
the immediate care of Mr. Anthony Mildmay, 
" an honest and faithful gentleman." In at- 
tendance upon them was Mr. Lovel, the 
young Duke's tutor; John Barmiston, gentle- 
man-usher; Judith Briott, the princess's 
gentlewoman; Elizabeth Jones, her ''laun- 
drie-mayde ;" and John Clarke, groom of her 
chamber. 



18 HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

XV. It is almost needless to state that there 
exists no foundation for Hume's assertion, 
that the chiefs of the commonwealth intended 
to apprentice the princess to a button-maker 
at Newport, and the young duke to a shoe- 
maker. Eumours to this effect, however, 
reached the ears of Henrietta Maria, and 
caused her much uneasiness. They origi- 
nated, probably, in a debate in the House of 
Commons on the question of providing for the 
maintenance of the royal children, when 
Cromwell bluntly said, in his wonted rough 
and vigorous way, that " as to the young boy, 
it would be best to bind him to a good trade.'' 
But the parliament proceeded no further than 
to command that " no person should be al- 
lowed to kiss their hands, and that they 
should not be otherwise treated than as the 
children of a gentleman." 

xvi. The young duke was soon left to en- 
dure his captivity alone. His sister, from the 
day of her arrival at Carisbrooke, complained 
of headache and feverish cold, which, despite 
all the art of her physicians, rapidly increased 
upon her; so that "after many rare ejacula- 
tory expressions, abundantly demonstrating 
her unparalleled piety, to the eternal honour 



HIS RELIGION IN DANGER. 19 

of her own memory, and the astonishment of 
those who waited on her, she took leave of 
the world on Sunday, the 8th September, 
1650/' For nearly two years her brother re- 
mained a prisoner in Carisbrooke, when 
Cromwell, generously, and at his own instiga- 
tion, allowed him to rejoin his mother and 
royal brothers in France, and supplied him 
with a sum of £500 to defray the expenses of 
his removal. 

xvii. Henrietta received him with a loving 
welcome, and attempted to proselytize him to 
the Eoman Catholic communion, but the 
young prince had been too well grounded in 
the principles of the Protestant faith, and re- 
membered too earnestly the last pathetic 
words of his dying father. His injunctions, 
he said, he had not forgotten ; that he should 
adhere to the Eeformed religion, and obey his 
Sovereign even in preference to his mother. 
By abandoning the Church of England, he 
added, he should incur the anger of his 
brother Charles, whom he now regarded as 
his sovereign, and entitled to his entire obed- 
ience. It was shameful, he continued, to 
force a controversy upon him in the absence 
of his tutor, who was better able than he 



20 HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

was to refute the arguments of his priestly an- 
tagonists. Enraged and disappointed at what 
she considered his sinful contumacy, Henrietta 
now subjected him to an hourly persecution ; 
forbidding him her presence, turning his 
horses out of her stables, depriving him of 
his dinner, and, during the cold nights of 
winter, removing the very sheets from his 
bed. And yet she had faithfully promised 
Charles that if he suffered his brother to re- 
main with her at Paris, she would make no 
attempt to pervert him from the church in 
which he had been bred. Charles was poli- 
tician enough to understand that if either he 
or his brother embraced the Romish persua- 
sion, his chance of occupying the throne of 
England was virtually reduced to a phantom. 
Accordingly he addressed to the young Duke 
the following letter, which if not the composi- 
tion of a very sincere Protestant is undoubt- 
edly that of a clever diplomatist. Thus he 
writes : — 

" Cologne, November 10, 1654. 
" Dear Brother, 

" I have received yours without a 
date, in which you tell me that Mr. Montague 



CHARLES THE SECONd's LETTER. 21 

[the Abbe Montague, Queen Henrietta's 
almoner] has endeavoured to pervert you 
from your religion. I do not doubt but you re- 
member very well the commands I left with 
you at my going away, concerning that point. 
I am confident you will observe them ; yet 
your letters that come from Paris say, that it 
is the Queen's purpose to do all she can to 
change your religion, in which, if you do 
hearken to her, or anybody else in that mat- 
ter, you must never think to see England 
again ; and whatsoever mischief shall fall on 
me or my affairs, from this time, I must lay 
all upon you as being the only cause of it. 

" Therefore, consider well what it is to be 
not only the cause of ruining a brother, that 
loves you so well, but also of your King and 
country. Do not let them persuade you either 
by force or fair promises ; for the first they 
neither dare nor will use ; and for the second, 
as * soon as they have perverted you, they 
will have their end, and then they will care 
no more for you. I am also informed that 
there is a purpose to put you into the Jesuits' 
College, which I command you, upon the 
same grounds, never to consent to. And 
whensoever any one shall go to dispute with 



22 HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

you in religion, do not answer tliem at all ; 
for though you have the reason on your side, 
yet they, being prepared, will have the ad- 
vantage of anybody that is not upon the same 
security that they are. 

" If you do not consider what I say unto 
you, remember the last words of your dead 
father, which were to be constant to your 
religion, and never to be shaken in it. Which, 
if you do not observe, this shall be the last 
time you will hear from, 

" Dear Brother, 
" Your most affectionate Brother, 

" Charles E.'' 

xviii. Charles followed up this letter by 
despatching the Marquis of Ormond to Paris, 
to remonstrate with the Queen, and remove 
the Duke of Gloucester from the Abb6 Mon- 
tague's dangerous neighbourhood to Charles's 
court at Cologne. Thither the Marquis and 
his charge in due time repaired ; Ormond 
being compelled to dispose of the jewelled 
George of his insignia of the Garter to obtain 
food, and defray the other expenses of the 
journey. 

xix. In 1658 the young Duke accom- 



THE RESTORATION. 23 

panied liis brotlier, James of York, to the 
campaign in Spain, and both specially dis- 
tinguished themselves in the defence of 
Dunkirk previous to its surrender to Crom- 
welFs soldiers. During their service under 
the Spanish flag the two Stuart-princes ap- 
pear to have been allowed a body-guard of 50 
men, handsomely accoutred, and two hun- 
dred pounds monthly, for the maintenance of 
a suitable table. They displayed a valour 
not unworthy of the race from which they 
sprang, and Gloucester, though only nineteen 
years of age, was as steady under fire as a 
seasoned veteran. Towards the close of the 
battle of Dunes, the young prince lost posses- 
sion of his sword. Villeneuve, Master of the 
Horse to the Prince de Ligne, sprang from 
his charger, and succeeded in recovering it, 
the Duke coolly protecting him with his pistol 
until he remounted. 

XX. At the Eestoration, the Duke of 
Gloucester accompanied his brother to Eng- 
land, and shared in the enthusiastic welcome 
extended by the people to almost every 
member of the Eoyal Family. Parliament 
gratified him with a present of five thousand 
pounds to provide himself with an establish- 



24 HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER. 

ment worthy of his rank. But the prince 
did not lon^ survive to enjoy his return to 
his heritage. Seized with the small-pox his 
physicians, according to Pepys, seriously 
neglected him; and the disease terminated 
fatally, on the 3rd of September, 1660. His 
loss was sincerely regretted by the people, 
and much lamented by his family. King 
Charles, it is said, felt it more acutely than 
any previous misfortune that had befallen him ; 
and the Duke of York attended his funeral 
as chief mourner. In the memoirs which he 
composed in his exile at St. Germains, James 
speaks of him as possessing " all the natural 
qualities to make a great Prince. '^ It is pro- 
bable, indeed, that, had he lived, his influence 
would have checked his royal brother in his 
mad and arbitrary career, or that after his 
abdication, he would have been called to the 
vacant throne by the unanimous voice of the 
people. All contemporary evidence describes 
him as a prince of extraordinary parts and 
unusual promise ; with a wit and judgment 
beyond his years, and a mind naturally clear 
and comprehensive, cultured by careful train- 
ing ; brave, generous, and of fascinating ad- 
dress ; and with the capacity of overcoming 



HIS DEATH A MISFORTUNE. 25 

a large amount of work rapidly, methodicallj, 
and successfully. Of all the children of 
Charles the 1st he appears to have been most 
beloved by Englishmen, and his premature 
death was at once a misfortune for the nation 
and a heavy blow for the royal house of 
Stuart. 



VOL. II. 



CHAPTER 11. 



JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH, NATURAL 
SON OF CHARLES II. 



[Authorities: — Macaulay's History of England ; De Grammont's 
Memoirs ; Historical Account of the Heroic Life of James, 
Duke of Monmouth, A.d. 1683 ; Bishop Burnet's History of His 
Own Times ; Eachard, Kennet, Hist, of England ; Dalrymple's 
Memoirs ; Life of Bishop Ken, by a Layman ; Scott's Dryden ; 
Account of what passed at the Execution of the late Duke of 
Monmouth, a.d. 1685 ; Roberts's Life of Monmouth, etc.] 



c 2 



CHAPTER IL 



JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH, NATURAL SON 
OF CHARLES II. 



Of all the numerous progeny were none 
So beautiful, so brave as Absalom. 
Early in foreign fields he won renown, 
With Kings and states allied to Israel's crown. 
In peace the thoughts of war he could remove, 
And seem'd as he were only born for love. 
Whate'er he did was done with so much ease. 
In him alone 'twas natural to please. 
His motions all accompanied with grace, 
And Paradise was opened in his face. 

Drtden. 

i. James, Duke of Monmoutli, was the 
eldest son — as he was assuredly the best be- 
loved — of Charles II. His mother was Lucy- 
Walters, " a private Welshwoman of no good 
fame, but handsome,'* who became the mis- 
tress of Charles the Second before his acces- 



30 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

sion to the tlirone. " She was so perfect a 
beauty/' says Madame Dunois, "and so 
charmed and transported the king, when he 
first saw her in Wales, that amidst the mis- 
fortunes which disturbed the first years of his 
life and reign, he enjoyed no satisfaction nor 
pleasure, but in loving and being beloved by 
this charming mistress. This being his first 
passion, the equipage he allowed her, the care 
he took to please her, and the complaisance 
he had for her, were so exceeding great, that 
it made the world believe he had promised 
marriage/' According to other authorities, 
however, it was in Holland that Charles first 
met with her, when she was living with 
Colonel Eobert Sidney, and many believe 
that the Colonel, and not the King, was really 
the father of the Duke of Monmouth, who 
was born at Eotterdam, on the 9th of April, 
1649. 

ii. His guardian was Lord Crofts, and the 
boy was known as James Crofts until the 
Eestoration. He lived principally at Paris, 
where he was carefully watched by the anx- 
ious eye of Queen Henrietta Maria. She 
paid more attention, however, to his initiation 
into the mysteries of the Catholic faith than to 



HIS EAELY YEAES. 31 

his general education, and lie was brought up 
under the immediate care of the P^res de 
rOratoire, at Sully, a college belonging to 
their fraternity. He appears at this time to 
have been a tolerable Papist, and a most in- 
tolerable scholar. 

iii. Young Crofts, as he was popularly 
called, was removed to England in 1662, still 
under the protecting segis of the Queen 
Mother. He was presented to his father at 
Hampton Court, who, proud of his extreme 
beauty and remarkable grace of manner, at 
once acknowledged him as his son, and dis- 
tinguished him with peculiar affection. The 
Countess of Castlemaine, the bold and bril- 
liant Barbara, was much incensed at the 
king's display of philo-progenitiveness. For 
'' her children,'' says the sarcastic De Gram- 
mont, ''were like so many puppets, compared 
with this new Adonis." Though only in his 
fourtenth year he was provided with a splen- 
did household ; created Duke of Orkney, and 
on the 20th of February, 1663, Duke of Mon- 
mouth. A suite of apartments in the Priory 
Gallery at Whitehall was luxuriously fur- 
nished for the youthful prince. He took his 
seat in the House of Peers with all the cere- 



32 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

mony appropriated to the reception of a 
prince o*f the blood; and in April, 1663, was 
distinguished with the Order of the Garter. 

iv. Let us look at this splendid young 
nobleman as he figures on the bright canvass 
of De Grammont : — " The external graces of 
his person were such, that nature, perhaps, 
never formed anything more complete. His 
face was extremely handsome, and yet it was 
a manly face, neither inanimate nor effemi- 
nate, each feature having its peculiar beauty 
and delicacy. He had a wonderful genius for 
every sort of exercise, engaging aspect, and 
an air of grandeur. The astonishing beauty 
of his outward form excited universal admira- 
tion : those who before were looked upon as 
handsome were now entirely forgotten at Court; 
and all the gay and beautiful of the fair sex 
were at his devotion. He was particularly 
beloved by the King, but the universal terror 
of husbands and lovers. This, however, did 
not long continue ; for nature not having en- 
dowed him with qualifications to secure the 
possession of the heart, the fair sex soon per- 
ceived the defect." 

Here is another picture from the pen of 
Madame Dunois : — " He was very handsome, 



A WORD-PICTUEE, 33 

extremely well made, and had an air of great- 
ness answerable to liis birth. He was brave, 
even to a fault, and exposed himself in the 
service abroad with a courage not to be ex- 
celled. He danced extremely well, and with 
an air that charmed all that saw him. His 
heart was always divided between love and 
glory. He was rich, young, gallant, and, as 
I have before said, tbe handsomest and best 
shaped of men. It will not after this appear 
strange that many ladies made it their busi- 
ness to engage his heart." 

V. He was married on the 20th of April, 
1663, to Lady Anne Scott, sole daughter of 
Francis, Earl of Buccleuch, and the wealthiest 
heiress in Great Britain. The bridegroom 
was only fourteen years old ; the bride was a 
year younger. She was not only endowed 
with an immense fortune, but with many 
estimable qualities ; was virtuous and witty ; 
charitable to the poor, and a patron of men 
of letters. Evelyn speaks of her as " a virtu- 
ous and excellent lady," and Madame Dunois 
says, that " though she was not extraordinarily 
beautiful, and was a little lame, yet in the 
main she was very desirable." A fair and a 

c 5 



34 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

wealthy wife was no insignificant prize, but 
the king was not yet weary of lavishing 
benefits upon his handsome son. In due 
course he was made a General in the army 
and captain of the first troop of Life-guards ; 
master of the horse ; gentleman of the bed- 
chamber ; governor of Hull ; Chancellor of 
the University of Cambridge ; and, as the 
husband of the heiress of Buccleuch, Lord 
Great Chamberlain of Scotland. 

vi. The personal prowess of this favourite 
of fortune was displayed at a very early age. 
In the great sea-fight with the Dutch, in 1665, 
he served as a volunteer on board Prince 
Euperfs ship, and manifested all the coolness 
of an experienced veteran. But the military 
service had greater attractions for him than 
the naval, and after some study of the tactics 
of armies, he was appointed to an important 
command, and sent to the assistance of Louis 
XIV. in his war with the Dutch. Six thousand 
English troops were placed under his com- 
mand, and, in 1672, he joined the French 
camp at Charleroi in time for the summer 
campaign. Nor was he a holiday soldier, a 
" carpet knight,'' who knew nothing of war 
but its "pomp and circumstance." He as- 



A SOLDIER. 35 

sisted, in this arduous campaign, at the sieges 
of Arfry, Ehineberg, Wesel, Emmerick, 
Doesburg, and Zutphen, and evinced so 
brilliant a courage and prompt a judgment 
that he fully merited the enthusiastic welcome 
with which he was received, on his return to 
England in July. The nation was rejoiced 
at an opportunity of making a hero of its 
favourite. 

vii. In the previous year, however, he had 
been distinguished by an exploit of a far less 
creditable character, which is probably the 
subject of Dry den's allusion in the following 
lines : — 

"What faults he had — for who from faults is free ? 
His father could not, or he would not see 1 
Some warm excesses, which the law forbore, 
Were construed youth that purged by boiling o'er ; 
And Amnon's murder, by a specious name, 
Was called a just revenge for injured fame." . 

Andrew Marvel refers to the incident in the 
following terms, (February 28, 1671) :— " On 
Saturday night last, or rather Monday morn- 
ing at two o'clock, some persons reported to 
be of great quality, together with other gen- 
tleman, set upon the watch and killed a poor 
beadle, praying for his life upon his knees, 
with many wounds : warrants are out for ap- 



36 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

prehending some of them, but they are fled." 
Again, he writes : — " Doubtless, you have 
heard before this time, how Monmouth, 
Albemarle, Dunbane, and seven or eight 
gentlemen, fought with the watch and killed 
a poor beadle : they have all got their pardon 
for Monmouth's sake, but it is an act of great 
scandal." The death of a poor beadle, how- 
ever, can hardly be considered " a just re- 
venge for injured fame," and Dry den more 
probably alludes to the punishment inflicted, 
through Monmouth's agency, upon Sir John 
Coventry, whose nose was slit as a warning 
to him never again to censure in the House of 
Commons Charles the Second's profligate 
amours. 

viii. Though peace with the Dutch was 
concluded in 1673, and a termination thus 
put to a disastrous war — which, as Sir Wil- 
liam Temple says, instead of making Charles 
a great king, had the honour of making only 
four great subjects* — the English troops in 
the French service were not recalled, and 
Monmouth was afforded further opportunities 
of obtaining military distinction. In 1676, 
he headed the forlorn hope which stormed 

* Clifford, Ashby, Albemarle, and Lauderdale. 



MILITARY SEEVICES. 37 

the city of Maestricht, and acted as even his 
uncle, James II. (in his Memoirs) admits, with 
equal courage and prudence. The English 
parliament having constrained Charles to 
espouse the Dutch cause, Monmouth next 
fought under the very banner which in his 
earlier campaigns he had so stoutly opposed, 
and, in 1678, was engaged against the French 
under the Prince of Orange, afterwards Wil- 
liam the 3rd. In the unsuccessful attack 
upon the Duke of Luxemburg's lines at 
Mons he earned his generalissimo's warmest 
approbation, and he was afterwards sent with 
three thousand English troops to secure the 
important port of Ostend. 

ix. His last appearance in the field, except 
at Sedgmoor, was against the Scotch Cove- 
nanters. With a small body of English 
cavalry, tlie Scotch guards, and some regi- 
ments of royal militia, he marched against the 
rebels who had taken post at Bothwell 
Bridge, about eight thousand strong, animated 
by religious enthusiasm, but neither directed 
by military skill nor controlled by military 
discipline. Monmouth attacked the bridge 
on the 22nd of June. It was defended by the 
insurgents with extraordinary resolution 



38 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

while their ammunition lasted, but when they 
sent for a further supply, they received orders 
to abandon their post, and retire, though the 
bridge could be held by a handful of men 
against a whole army. Monmouth immedi- 
ately crossed the bridge, and drew up his 
forces in battle array. His artillery soon put 
to flight the disorganised bands of the Cove- 
nanter$, and his cavalry completed their total 
rout. About seven hundred fell in the ter- 
rible melee, and twelve hundred were taken 
prisoners. These were treated by Monmouth 
with a humanity which confers more lustre 
upon his character than his undoubted 
courage. All who promised to behave peace- 
ably were at once dismissed to their homes ; 
the remainder, about 300, were transported to 
Barbadoes ; and two of the leading preachers 
were hanged. 

X. Monmouth was now at the very height of 
his popularity, and eager tongues were busy 
in extolling his conduct in the field, his 
capacity in the council, the generosity of his 
disposition, and the brilliancy of his talents. 
He was the favourite both of king and people, 
and in the unpopular Duke of York found 
such a foil as set off his own excellences to 



AMBITIOUS PROJECTS. 39 

the utmost possible advantage. Yet from 
this hour of pride and prosperity may be 
dated the beginning of his downfall. The 
extreme unpopularity of the king's brother, 
and the general demand for a bill to exclude 
him from the succession to the throne on the 
ground of his being a Roman Catholic, 
nourished in Monmouth's busy and impe- 
tuous brain a thousand wild schemes pf ambi- 
tion. He became the tool of the intriguing 
and versatile iShaftesbury, who contrived to 
impress on the mind of the nation a belief in 
Monmouth's legitimacy, and circulated a 
rumour that the king had been secretly mar- 
ried to Lucy Walters, in the first flush of his 
idolatry of that abandoned Phryne. The 
story, though manifestly incredible, was will- 
ingly accepted by the people, who regarded 
Monmouth as the Protestant hero — the champ- 
ion of civil and religious freedom — and were 
only too ready to believe anything that told 
to his advantage. 

xi. The report was one that necessarily 
caused James much uneasiness, and he refers 
to it at length in the garrulous Memoirs which 
he drew up in his retreat at St. Germains. 
He states that Shaftesbury and his complot- 



40 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

ters would fain have persuaded Dr. Cosin, 
Bishop of Durham, who had attempted dur- 
ing Lucy Walter's residence at Paris to re- 
cover her from her life of shame and degrada- 
tion, to sign a fictitious certificate of her 
marriage with Charles. They pointed out 
that by doing so he would exclude the 
papist Duke of York fi'om the throne, to the 
infinite . advantage of the Eeformed Church 
and the interest of the Protestant religion. 
But this Bishop, like an honest man, commu- 
nicated the nefarious design to the King ; and 
Charles, who, warmly as he loved his son, was 
unwilling to impose a fraudulent contract on 
his brother, took some pains to investigate the 
matter. And when he was urged by Shaftes- 
bury and Carlisle to declare the legitimacy of 
Monmouth, he exclaimed, " Much as I love 
him, I would rather see him hanged at Tyburn 
than I would confess him to be my heir.'^ 

xii. It was about this time that the King, 
while at Windsor, was seized with a serious 
illness which set on the alert the partisans of 
the rival Dukes. A general consternation 
afllicted all classes of people, for it was per- 
ceived that if he died at this juncture a 
struggle for the crown would inevitably 



PLOTS AND COUNTER PLOTS. 41 

ensue, and men had not so soon forgotten the 
disasters of the civil war as to view with 
ought but apprehension the prospect of another 
internecine struggle. The principal councillors 
of the King — Essex, Halifax, and Sunderland 
— advised him, therefore, to send secretly for 
the Duke of York, that, in case of any un- 
fortunate result, he might be on the spot to 
assert his legitimate claims. In this the king, 
who always showed himself anxious to pro- 
tect his brother's rio;hts, fully concurred. The 
Duke of York returned from Holland (Septem- 
ber 2nd), but found on his arrival that his 
brother had recovered. His journey, how- 
ever, was not without important results. He 
obtained from the King a solemn declaration 
of Monmouth's illegitmacy, which to this day 
stands recorded in the rolls of the Privy 
Council. It is dated on the 3rd of March, 
1679, and runs as follows: — 

" That to avoid any dispute which may 
happen in time to come concerning the suc- 
cession to the crown, he declares in the pre- 
sence of Almighty God, that he never gave 
nor made any contract of marriage, nor was 
married to any woman whatsoever, but to 



42 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

his present wife, Queen Catherine, now 
living. 

" Charles Eex. 
''Whitehall, March 3rd, 1679/' 
And three months later a similar protest 
was entered in the Court of Chancery ; that 
" on the word of a King, and the faith of a 
Christian, he was never married to Mrs. Bar- 
low, alias Walters, the Duke of Monmouth's 
mother, nor to any woman whatsoever, besides 
the now Queen.'' James succeeded in ac- 
complishing a yet greater triumph, and 
obtained Monmouth's dismissal from his post 
of captain-general and the governorship of 
Hull, while he was also commanded to with- 
draw to Holland. Satisfied with these results 
he thought it advisable to appease the grow- 
ing discontent of the nation by returning to 
Brussels, from whence he afterwards proceeded 
to Edinburgh, and assumed the government of 
Scotland. 

xiii. If by these means the duke had se- 
cured his influence at court, it soon appeared 
that he had contrived to inflame against himself 
the passions of the nation, and the disgrace of 
Monmouth being rightly attributed to his ex- 



A FAVOUEITE OF FORTUNE. 43 

ertions, that spoiled favourite of fortune was 
regarded as a martyr in the cause of civil and 
religious liberty. The populace with their 
idol resemble a lover with his mistress, for 
whom there exist no faults in the beloved one, 
or who looks upon those faults in the madness 
of his idolatry, as positive beauties. Thus, 
when Monmouth having vainly solicited his 
recal, returned to England, early in 1680, 
without permission, and at the risk of immi- 
nent personal peril, he was everywhere re- 
ceived with an enthusiastic greeting. It was 
midnight when he entered London, but the 
watchmen immediately awakened the slum- 
bering citizens with the cry of "Monmouth has 
returned !'^ As if by magic the bells pealed 
out a welcoming chime from every tower and 
steeple, and huge bonfires blazed in all the 
principal streets. The king sent an angry 
order to his daring son to return at once to 
Holland; but Monmouth, escorted by one 
hundred followers, splendidly equipped and 
fully armed, had set out on an almost regal 
progress through Worcestershire, Stafford- 
shire, Cheshire, and Lancashire, being re- 
ceived in every town by shouts of welcome, 
and with such festive ceremonials as usually 



44 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

attend the progress of some popular monarch. 
''When he approached a town/' says Dal- 
rjmple, " he quitted his coach and rode into 
it on horseback. The nobility and gentry 
went foremost in a band. At a distance, and 
single, rode the duke, and at a distance behind 
him the servants and tenants. When he en- 
tered the towns, those who received him 
formed themselves into three ranks ; the no- 
bility, gentry, and burghers being placed in 
the first, the tenants in the next, and the ser- 
vants in the last. He gave orders for two 
hundred covers to be prepared wherever he 
dined. At dinner two doors were thrown 
open, that the populace might enter at the one, 
walk round the table to see their favourite, and 
give place to those that followed, by going out 
at the other. At other times he dined in an 
open tent in the fields, that he might the more 
see and be seen. At Liverpool he ventured 
to touch for the king's evil. He entered into 
all country diversions, and, as he was of 
wonderful agility, even ran races himself upon 
foot. And when he had outstripped the swift- 
est of the racers, he ran again in his boots > 
and beat them, though running in their shoes. 
The prizes which he gained during the day, 






A POETICAL CELEBRATION. 45 

he gave away at christenings in the evening. 
The bells were rung, bonfires made, and vol- 
leys of fire-arms discharged; wherever he 
came, the populace waving their hats in the 
air, shouted after him, ' a Monmouth, a Mon- 
mouth !' and all promised him their votes in 
future elections to Parliament." 

xiv. Monmouth was in the very heart of 
his triumph when, on the very day that the 
inhabitants of Stafford proposed to entertain 
him with a magnificent f^te, he was arrested 
by the king^s orders. The writ of arrest was 
served by a single serjeant-at-arms, but neither 
Monmouth nor his friends dared the least re- 
sistance. He speedily dispatched Sir Thomas 
Armstrong for a habeas corpus^ and having 
obtained it, returned to the metropolis, thus 
ignominiously closing his triumphal progress. 
Dryden has celebrated this remarkable 
journey in sonorous verse : 

" TKe crowd, that still believe their king's oppress, 
With lifted hands their young Messiah bless : 
Who now begins his progress to ordain, 
With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train ; 
From east to west his glories he displays, 
And like the sun, the promised land surveys. 
Fame runs before him as the morning star, 
And shouts of joy salute him from afar ; 
Each house receives him as a guardian God, 
And consecrates the place of his abode." 



46 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

XV. From the little we know of Monmouth's 
proceedings during the next two years, it 
would seem that the excitement caused by 
his return died away as suddenly as it had 
risen. But his conduct still continued to give 
so much umbrage to the king, that in 1682 
he intimated to the University of Cambridge 
his pleasure that they should choose another 
chancellor in the place of the Duke ; and, 
accordingly, Christopher, Duke of Albemarle, 
the unworthy son of an illustrious sire, was 
unanimously elected. The University, always 
loyal, even to excess of adulation, now went 
out of its way to insult its former head by 
removing Monmouth^s picture from the Halls 
and Colleges, and publicly burning it — an 
" eager and ridiculous action,'' which Stepney 
justly satirized — 

"Yes, fickle Cambridge— Perkins found this true, 
Both, from your rabble, and your doctors, too ; 
With what applause you once received his grace, 
And begged a copy of his godlike face ! 
But when the sage vice-chancellor was sure 
The original, in limbo, lay secure, 
As greasy as himself, he sends a lictor 
To vent his loyal malice on the picture." 

xvi. In 1683, Monmouth repaired to Paris, 
where he was warmly received by Louis and 



THE RYE HOUSE PLOT. 47 

the French court. " On the 25th of Feb- 
ruary in that year, was contested, in the 
neighbourhood of the French capital, perhaps 
the most famous horse-race of modern times ; 
Louis the Fourteenth having sent to different 
countries, inviting the owners of the swiftest 
horses to try their fortune upon that day. 
The plate, which the king himself presented, 
and which was valued at a thousand pistoles, 
was run for on the plain d'Ech6re, near St. 
Germain-en-Lai. The honor of England was 
sustained by the Duke of Monmouth, who 
carried away the prize in the presence of 
Louis and the French courfc." 

xvii. In the memorable Eye-house plot Mon- 
mouth was as closely implicated as Eussell 
and Sidney, and his guilt from his relationship 
to the king was infinitely greater, but hap- 
pily for him he contrived to effect his escape. 
In that part of the conspiracy which medita- 
ted the assassination of king Charles, neither 
he, nor Eussell, nor Sidney was a participator, 
nor had they any knowledge of the crime 
that their followers contemplated. His escape, 
it is said, was in no way due to his father's 
clemency. As the story is told by Bishop 
Burnet, king Charles went to the house of 



48 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

the Duchess of Monmouth, and weeping 
while he related his son's misdeeds, informed 
her that their mansion would shortly be 
searched, but as he had commanded that her 
private apartments should be respected, she 
might easily conceal her husband therein. 
The duke, however, mistrusted the king's 
words, and hid himself elsewhere ; a fortunate 
circumstance, adds the bishop, since the 
duchess's chambers were the first that were 
examined. Such is the improbable tale told 
by the garrulous prelate, who heard it, he 
says, from Lord Cutts — and Lord Cutts, from 
Monmouth himself. 

xviii. Lord Dartmouth very justly throws 
doubt upon the probability of this singular 
legend. " Mr. Francis Gwin," he says, " se- 
cretary at war in Queen Anne's time, told 
me, that as soon as this book (Bishop Bur- 
net's Memoirs) was published, he asked the 
Duchess of Monmouth if she remembered any- 
thing of this story : she answered, it was im- 
possible she should, for there were not one 
word of it true." Its falsehood is patent 
upon the face of it, for Charles's affection for 
his son could not be disguised, and during the 
whole time of the Duke's pretended conceal- 



HIS PENITENCE. 49 

merit, lie sent him messages of loving assur- 
ance, and even admitted him to several private 
interviews. 

xix. After the excitement caused by the 
conspiracy had somewhat subsided, Halifax^ 
anxious to establish at court an influence 
which might oppose the Dake of York's, 
sought out Monmouth in his retreat, and pur- 
suaded him to write to the king, in terms of 
the deepest contrition. '' There is nothing,*' 
he wrote, "under Heaven has struck me so 
much to the hearty as to be put into a procla- 
mation for a,n intention of murdering you. Sir, 
and the Duke. I do call God Almighty to 
witness, and I wish I may die this moment 
I am writing, if ever it entered into my head, 
or ever I said the least thing to anybody that 
could make them think I could wish such a 
thing. I am sure there cannot be such villains 
upon earth to say I ever did." The impres- 
sion produced by this emphatic letter was 
deepened by a second, in which Monmouth 
described with eloquent pathos the misery he 
endured. All the king's former affection for 
his Absalom revived ; he pardoned him, and 
interceded with the Duke of York to obtain 

VOL. II. D 



50 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

his pardon also. The only condition forced 
upon Monmouth was, that he should disclose 
all the knowledge he had of the conspiracy; 
but, on the other hand, the king promised that 
his testimony should never be used against any 
of his former friends. Oharles then summoned 
aa extraordinary council, and informed them 
both of Monmouth's penitence and pardon; 
and ^' the night,'' says Welwood, '' that the 
Duke first appeared at court upon this recon- 
ciliation, King Charles was so little master of 
himself, that he could not dissemble a mighty 
joy in his countenance, and in everything he 
did or said, inasmuch that it was the public 
talk about town, and strongly insinuated to 
the Duke of York, that all the King's former 
proceedings against the Duke of Monmouth 
were but grimace." 

XX. But if Monmouth was reconciled to 
the court, he had exasperated against him all 
his former friends; and stung by the reproaches 
heaped upon him, he soon flung to the winds 
his penitent resolutions, and employed emissa- 
ries to deny that he had ever made the con- 
fession imputed to him. Even now, the long 
suffering of the easy-natured monarch was not 
exhausted. He admitted his son to a private 



FATHER AND SON. 51 

interview, in whicli lie expressed his fear lest 
he should relapse into his former errors, and 
besought him to make the same confession to 
the public which he had already made to him. 
He placed befoi'e him a draft of a letter to this 
effect, which the vacillating Monmouth^ 
yielding to the king's unwearied kindness, 
immediately signed. But as soon as he re- 
turned to the councils of his partisans, their 
vehement reproaches and cunning insinuations 
overthrew his new-born penitence. He 
hastened to the royal presence, and requested 
that the letter might be returned to him. 
Charles told him calmly that his wish should 
be complied with, rather than he should have 
occasion to say he had been constrained to 
act against his inclination. At the same time 
he bade him consider well the importance of 
the step he was about to take, and attend him 
again on the following morning. But the 
next day — the day on which Algernon's Sid- 
ney's judicial murder was perpetrated — Mon- 
mouth remained in the same resolve. Tftie 
King, with undisguised sorrow, put the letter 
in his hands, but banished him at the same 
time from the kingdom, 

D 2 



52 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

XX. For the next two years the Duke prin- 
cipally resided at the Hague, where the Prince 
and Princess of Orange treated him with 
peculiar consideration. He was supplied by 
Charles, privately, with sums of money, and 
it appears that he was also admitted occasion- 
ally to a secret interview. And it was noticed 
that whenever any one of the court referred 
to Monmouth's misdoings, the king always 
introduced some extenuating or apologetic 
comment. And as the discontent of the peo- 
ple increased, and the arbitrary character of 
the Duke of York developed itself, Charles, 
whose judgment was sound enough when he 
chose to exercise it, meditated an entire change 
of measures and a new plan of administration ; 
to dismiss the Duke in honourable retirement 
to the regency of Scotland, to summon a par- 
liament, to admit to his councils faithful and 
popular advisers, and to recal Monmouth 
from Holland. That, but for his premature 
death, he would have carried out at least the 
latier design is apparent from the passages in 
Monmouth's private Diary, found on his per- 
son after the rout at Sedgmoor, which • Wel- 
wood has preserved. The names are all in 



Monmouth's diaey. 53 

cipher, and 29 clearly refers to the king, 39 
to the Duke of York. L was probably 
Halifax ; D, Mary of Modena, James's 
duchess. 

"13 October, 1684. — L came to me at 
eleven at night from 29. Told me 29 would 
never be brought to believe that I knew any- 
thing of that part of the plot which concerned 
Eye-house ; but as things went he must be- 
have himself as if he did believe it, for some 
reasons that might be to my advantage. L 
desired me to write to 29, which I refused ; 
but afterwards told me 29 expected it, and I 
promised to write to-morrow if he could call 
for the letter at S. L showed a great con- 
cern for me, and I believe him sincere, though 
3 is of another mind. 

"14 Oct. — L came, as he promised, and 
receiving the letter from 3 sealed, refusing to 
read it himself, though I had left it open 
with S lor that purpose. 

"20 Oct. — L came to me at S, with a line 
or two from 29, very kind, assuring me he 
believed every word in my letter to be true ; 
and advised me to keep hid till he had an 
opportunity to express his belief of it some 
other way. L told me he was to go out of 



54 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

town next day, and that 29 would send 80 to 
me in a day or two, whom he assm-ed me I 
might trust. 

''25 Oct. — L came for me to — , when 29 
was with 80. He received me pretty well, 
and said 30 and 50 were the causes of my 
misfortunes, and would ruin me. After some 
hot words against them and against S, went 
away in a good humour. 

"26 Oct. — I went to E — , and was in dan- 
ger of being discovered by some of Oglethorp's 
men, that were accidentally at the back door 
of the garden, 

" 2 Nov. — A letter from 29 to be to-morrow 
at seven at night at S, and nobody to know it 
but 80. 

" 3 Nov. — He came not, there being an 
extraordinary council. But 80 brought me 
a copy of 50' s intercepted letter, which made 
rather for me than against me. Bid me come 
to-morrow at the same hour, and to say no- 
thing of the letter, unless 29 spoke of it first. 

" 4 Nov. — I came and found 29 and L 
there. He was very kind, and gave me di- 
rections how to manage my business, and 
what words I should say to 39. He appointed 
80 to come to me every night till my busi- 



MONMOUTH^S DIARY. 55 

ness was ripe, and promised to send with him 
directions from time to time. 

" 9 Nov. — L. came from 29, and told me 
mj business should be done to mj mind next 
week, and that Q. [Queen Katherine] was my 
friend, and had spoke to 39 and D. in my 
behalf ; which he said 29 took very kindly, 
and had expressed so to her. At parting he 
told me there should be nothing required of 
me but what was both safe and honourable ; 
but said there must be something done to 
blind 39. 

''15 Nov. — L. came to me with a copy of 
the letter I was to sign to please 39. I de- 
sired to know in whose hands it was to be 
deposited, for I would have it in no hands but 
29. He told me it should be so, but if 39 
asked a copy it could not well be refused. I 
referred myself entirely to 29's pleasure. 

"24 Nov. — L. came from 29, and ordered 
me to render myself to-morr9w. Cautioned 
me to play my part, to avoid questions as 
much as possible, and to seem absolutely 
converted to 39 's interest. Bade me bear 
with some words that might seem harsh. 

"25 Nov. — I rendered myself. At night 
29 could not dissemble his satisfaction; pressed 



56 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

my hand, which I remember not he did before, 
except when I returned from the French 
service. 29 acted his part well, and I too. 39 
and D. seemed not ill-pleased. 

"26 Nov. — 29 took me aside, and falling 
on the business of L. R. [Lord E-ussell], said 
he inclined to have saved him, but was forced 
to it, otherwise he must have broke with 39. 
Bid me think no more on it. Coming home 
L told me he feared 39 began to smell out 
29's carriage. That .... said to 39 that 
morning, that all that was done was but 
sham. 

"27 Nov. — Several told me of the storm 
that was brewing. Ramsey was with 39, and 
was seen to come out crying that he must ac- 
cuse a man he loved. 

"29 Dec— A letter from 29, bidding me 
stay till I heard further from him. 

" 5 Jan., 1685. — I received a letter from L., 
marked by 29 in the margin, to trust entirely 
in 10; and that in February I should cer- 
tainly have leave to return. That matters 
were concerting towards it ; and that 39 
had no suspicion, notwithstanding, of my re- 
ception here. 

" 3 Feb. — A letter from L. that my business 



DEATH OF CHARLES II. 57 

was almost as well as done ; but must be so 
sudden as not to leave time for 39 's party to 
counterplot. That it is probable lie would 
choose Scotland rather than Flanders or 
this country [Holland], which was all one to 
29. 

"16 Feb. — The sad news of his death, by 
L. ; 0, cruel Fate !" 

xxi. The death of Charles completely 
altered Monmouth's prospects. The Prince and 
Princess of Orange no longer honoured him 
with marked attentions, lest they should be 
displeasing to the new monarch, though 
James II., in his Memoirs, asserts that they 
endeavoured to inflame the animosity which 
already existed between him and his nephew. 
'"• Whichever got the better,'' he says, "would 
equally advantage his pretensions. If the 
Duke of Monmouth succeeded, it would be 
easy for William, that was a Protestant as 
well as he, and in right of his wife the next 
heir, to shove him off the saddle. If, on the 
contrary, the Duke of Monmouth was worsted, 
he got rid of a dangerous rival, and was sure 
all his party would have recourse to him. 
This made him, underhand, do all he could to 

D 5 



58 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

inflame tlie young man^s furj and ambition ; 
and send him out like a victim to the slaughter, 
playing a sure game himself, to whomsoever 
fortune should give the advantage." But 
nothing in William^ s conduct gives any colour 
to so grave an accusation, and it is a fact that 
he behaved to Monmouth after James's ac- 
cession, with a discreet coolness. James's 
rancour was doubtlessly excited by his refusal 
to seize the Duke's person, and deliver him 
up to the English envoy, to be sent to Eng- 
land ; a kidnapping transaction in which the 
Stadtholder indignantly refused to have any 
share. He desired him, however, to quit Hol- 
l^-nd, where he could no longer afPord him 
any effectual protection,and provided him with 
money. Accompanied by his paramour, the 
beautiful Lady Henrietta Wentworth, he 
retired to Brussels, where, in order to supply 
those educational deficiencies of which he had 
long been sensible, he sedulously devoted 
himself to study. Soon the leaders of the 
more fanatical sects of Protestants rallied 
round him as the hero and martyr of their 
cause, and these were augmented by every 
adventurous spirit who had aught to hope 
from change or revolution, until the coterie at 



MEDITATES INVASION. 59 

Brussels alarmed the jealousy of James II., 
and he procured the Spanish Governor of the 
Netherlands to order Monmouth to quit the 
country. Thus harassed by a constant appre- 
hension of arrest, unable to take refuge in 
France — for the English king was already the 
ally, or rather the salaried bondsman of Louis 
Quatorze — Monmouth, in sheer desperation, 
began to give heed to the insidious counsels 
of the more daring of his adherents. Against 
his own judgment he found himself con- 
strained to contemplate an invasion of Eng- 
land, though under circumstances which 
seemed to forbid all hopes of a successful 
result. For as James II. had not yet mani- 
fested his arbitrary notions of government, 
between him and his Parliament a cordial 
understanding subsisted. So decided was the 
temper of the majority of the nation, that 
even the Prince of Orange, whose dislike to 
James II. was notorious, offered to come over 
to England, and take the command of the 
troops designed to crush Monmouth^s small 
and desperate band. 

xxii. Nor did Monmouth possess any one of 
those qualities which are requisite for the suc- 
cessful leader of an insurrection. His per- 



60 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

sonal courage was unimpeachable ; he had had 
military experience, and knew something of 
the management of large bodies of men ; but 
he was unstable to an excess, vain, over-san- 
guine ; easily elated and as easily depressed ; 
incapable of conceiving a great plan or of 
carrying it out when formed ; devoid of firm- 
ness, rash, and yet incapable of daring all 
when to dare is to command success. He was 
not unaware of his own deficiencies, and when 
free from the exciting influence of his despe- 
rate companions, could discern the difficulties 
of the enterprise on which he had embarked. 
He wavered; he hesitated ; he would fain have 
withdrawn, but he had pledged himself to the 
Duke of Argyle, who had already sailed from 
Scotland on the understanding that the duke 
would co-operate in England. In this hour of 
doubt and despondency, he thus addressed 
himself to one of his adherents: 

" I have received both yours this morning, 
and cannot delay you my answer longer than 
this post, though I fear it will not please you 
so much as I heartily wish it may. I have 
weighed all your reasons, and everything that 
you and my other friends have writ to me on 
the subject ; and have done it with the great- 



LONGlNa FOR EASE. 61 

est inclination to follow your advice without 
prejudice. You may well believe I have had 
time enough to reflect sufficiently upon our 
present state, especially since I came hither. 
But whatever way I turn my thoughts, I find 
insuperable difficulties. Pray do not think it 
an effect of melancholy, for that was never my 
greatest fault, when I tell you that in these 
three weeks' retirement in this place I have 
not only looked back but forward ; and the 
more I consider our present circumstances, I 
think them still the more desperate, unless 
some unforeseen accident fall out, which I 
cannot divine nor hope for.'' . . " And," 
he adds, " to tell you my thoughts without 
disguise, I am now so much in love with a re- 
tired life, that I am never like to be fond of 
making a bustle in the world again."" Such 
are the inconsistencies of human nature ! 
This ambitious man longed for the ease of a 
lettered life when it behoved him to plunge 
resolutely into the press of the battle, and 
would fain have bound his brow with love's 
tender garland, when his hand should have 
grasped the sword which might win him a re- 
gal crown ! The motive of this new-born de- 
sire for the happiness of a private life, was the 



62 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

passionate love he had conceived for the 
Baroness Henrietta Wentworth, who had 
given up home, and friends, and honor for 
him ; and for whom he had abandoned his 
admirable wife and children. '' Lady Went- 
worth," says Bishop Burnet, " had followed 
him to Brussels, desperately in love with him, 
and both he and she came to fancy that he 
being married to his duchess, while he was in- 
deed of the age of consent, but not capable of 
a free one, the marriage was null ; so they 
lived together, and she had heated both her- 
self and him with such enthusiastical conceits, 
that they fancied what they did was approved 
of God!" 

xxiii. It was with the greatest reluctance, 
and an uncontrollable presentiment of evil, 
that he tore himself from the arms of Lady 
"Wentworth, and set sail for England on the 
24th of May, 1685. His force was ridicu- 
lously inadequate to the magnitude of his 
enterprise ; it consisted only of a 32-gun 
frigate, three small transports, and a body of 
eighty-two gallant and well armed adven- 
turers. He carried with him, however, a 
supply of arms for five thousand men. After 
encountering stormy seas and contrary winds 



LANDS AT LYME. .63 

for no less than nineteen days, lie landed at 
Lyme in Dorsetshire, on the 11th of June, 
accompanied by Lord Gray, Fletcher, Fer- 
guson, and Wade. Immediately on landing 
he commanded silence, and kneeling down on 
the shore, " thanked God for having preser- 
ved the friends of liberty and pure religion 
from the perils of the sea, and implored the 
divine blessing on what was yet to be done 
by land. He then drew his sword, and led 
his men over the cliffs into the town. As 
soon as it was known under what leader, and 
for what purpose the expedition came, the 
enthusiasm of the populace burst through all 
restraint. The little town was in an uproar 
with men running to and fro and shouting, 
' A Monmouth ! a Monmouth ! the Protestant 
religion !' Meanwhile, the ensign of the 
adventurers, a blue flag, was set up in the 
market place. The military stores were de- 
posited in the Town Hall *, and a declaration, 
setting forth the objects of the expedition, 
was read from the cross."* It was couched 
in the most inflammatory terms ; designated 
James 11. as his " mortal and bloody enemy;" 
accused him of having been accessory to the 

* Macaulay. 



64. JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

murder of Sir Edmundburj Godfrey ; with 
having hired the assassins of the lamented 
Earl of Essex ; and with having done to 
death the late king,'^ for which villanous and 
unnatural crime, that barbarous and horrid 
parricide, executed upon our father, we will 
persecute him to death." He vindicated his 
own legitimate right to the crowns of England, 
Scotland, France, and Ireland, notwithstand- 
ing the means used by the late king, his 
father, upon Popish motives, and at the in- 
stigation of the Duke of York, to weaken 
and obscure it. He denounced all who 
should aid the said Duke as enemies of God, 
mankind, and their country. He called 
heaven and earth to witness to the necessity 
of their betaking themselves to arms as men 
and christians, and appealed to God in wit- 
ness to the justice of his cause, not doubting 
but that he should receive the assistance of 
all Protestant kings, princes, and common- 
wealths, who did either regard the gospel of 
Jesus Christ, or their own interests. " Above 
all," he added: "Our dependence and trust is 
upon the Lord of Hosts, in whose name We 
go forth, and to whom We commit Our 
Cause, and refer the decision betwixt Us and 



LOYALTY OF THE COMMONS. 65 

Our enemies in the day of battle. Now let 
us praj the men for our people, and for the 
cities of our God ; and the Lord do that 
which seemeth good unto them." 

xxiv. Such was the effect of his im- 
passioned appeal, and of Monmouth's popu- 
larity, that in the four days he remained at 
Lyme more than one thousand horse and foot 
flocked to his standard, but these were prin- 
cipally of the lower orders. Upon the minds 
of the gentry his proclamation had an un- 
favourable influence, from the very violence 
of tone which pleased and excited the vulgar. 
It was answered by both Houses of Parlia- 
ment in an emphatic manner, They presented 
an address to the King, pledging themselves 
to assist and stand by him with their lives 
and fortunes. They passed a bill for attainting 
Monmouth of high treason. They offered a 
reward of £5000 for his capture either alive 
or dead, and voted a supply of £400,000 for 
the King's present extraordinary occasions. 
Some of the gentry, and a few of the nobility 
perhaps, may have secretly wished him suc- 
cess from their interest in the ascendancy of 
Protestant principles ; but the rank, wealth, 
and intelligence of the nation were un- 



66 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

doubtedly opposed to him. His pretensions 
to the throne, it was felt, could not for one 
moment be supported, nor was his the hand 
firm and vigorous, in which any well wisher 
to his country would desire to see the 
English sceptre placed. 

xxiv. On his advance towards Axminster, 
Monmouth received intelligence of the arrival 
of the Duke of Albemarle — formerly a boon 
companion in his youthful excesses — with 
about 4,000 of the Devonshire militia. They 
had approached within a quarter of a mile of 
each other when Albemarle, observing the 
disaffection of his followers, deemed it advis- 
able to order a retreat, lest they should desert 
en masse to the invader. Monmouth, un- 
happily for his future success, neglected to 
pursue him. Had he moved forward with 
vigour he would have obtained arms and re- 
cruits, and won, upon easy terms, a triumph^ 
which would have done more to rally public 
opinion to the support of his enterprise than 
a hundred proclamations. But he lacked the 
self-reliance of a great commander. He 
doubted the capacity of his troops. He was 
haunted with a presentiment of failure, which 
in itself was a greater blow to his cause than 



HESITATION. 67 

all the muskets and artillery of King James. 
Nor was he surrounded by able advisers. 
Lord Gray, who commanded the cavalry, had 
already shown himself a coward, yet the 
easy-natured Monmouth continued him in his 
important post, Fletcher of Saltoun was, in- 
deed, a man of genius and honesty, but in a 
fit of ungovernable passion he had shot dead 
a comrade, and been compelled to quit the 
. camp. The Duke, thus flung back upon his 
own resources, resolved to wait until he had 
got his men into better training, whereas, had 
he pressed forward vigorously, he might pro- 
bably have marched unopposed to the gates of 
Exeter. For the adventurer there is no safer 
course than, paradoxical as it may seem, that 
which appears the most desperate. No golden 
mean exists for him. He who would win all 
must risk all, and either shake men^s minds 
with fear, or startle them into admiration. 

XXV. Monmouth continued his triumphal 
progress to Taunton, where he arrived on the 
18th of June, having occupied seven days In 
advancing twenty miles. Here he was received 
as if already James had been defeated ; as if 
already the triple crown glittered upon his 
brow. Troops of young and lovely maidens 



68 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

presented liim with a standard which their 
own fair fingers had woven. The houses were 
decorated with green boughs and garlands, and 
it was through a press of excited admirers 
that he slowly made his way. The leader of 
the band of girls, already spoken of, placed 
in his hands a Bible. " I have come into the 
field,'^ cried the Duke, carried away by no 
fictitious enthusiasm, ''to defend the truths 
contained in this book, and, if there be occa- 
sion for it, to seal them with my blood." Eome 
warm with the hot tide of Italian blood, could 
not have welcomed her Rienzi or her Petrarch 
with a wilder fervour. 

xxvi. His imagination stimulated by these 
exciting scenes, his judgment warped by the 
counsels of rash and incapable advisers, Mon- 
mouth now committed his second great error. 
He put forth another proclamation, in which 
he assumed the title of king ; he set a price on 
James the Second's head ; declared the Par- 
liament a factious assembly ; and even went 
so far as to exercise the ancient prerogative 
of " touching for the evil." '' Whether his 
own single folly," wrote Lord Lonsdale, who 
was one of his contemporaries, " or the coun- 
cil of those that were supposed to betray him 



A FATAL EREOE. 69 

added to It, was tlie cause of Ms proclaiming 
himself king, was doubtful. But this was 
certain, that several thousands quitted him 
within three days after/' Many had been 
willing to unite with him in wresting from the 
reluctant James proper guarantees for the 
free exercise of the Protestant religion, but 
they had not yet had sufficient proof of his 
despotic tendencies to desire to deprive him 
of the throne. Those who would have gone 
to the latter extreme were Whig partisans 
pledged to the succession of the Princess of 
Orange ; while moderate men of all parties 
saw in Monmouth's rash assertion the fore- 
runner of an obstinate, and, perhaps, a pro- 
longed contest ; ^' an inundation," to use the 
sagacious Evelyn's language, " of phantasies," 
which must needs cause " universal disorder, 
cruelty, injustice, rapine, sacrilege and confu- 
sion, an universal civil war, and misery with- 
out end." 

xxvii. " Quos deus vult perdere, prius de- 
menta." Monmouth proceeded from Taun» 
ton to Bridgewater, and thence to Wells and 
Frome, delaying in each town to be solemnly 
proclaimed, and wasting in idle ceremonies the 
time that should have been employed in ener- 



70 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

getic action. His greatest enemy could have 
desired no better opportunities than his dila- 
toriness afforded. It enabled King James to 
assemble a sufficient force to check his almost 
regal progress. Three thousand men were 
placed under the leadership of the Earl of 
Feversham and Colonel Churchill, and six 
British regiments were recalled from Holland 
to act as a reserve. Meanwhile, Argyle^s at- 
tempt in Scotland had been promptly 
crushed, and clouds gathered so rapidly over 
Monmouth's path, that the buoyant spirit 
which had recently animated him gave way 
to a mood of the darkest despair. He even 
hesitated whether he should not make his 
way to the sea coast, and take ship at Poole, 
but the shame of abandoning his adherents, 
and some apprehension, perhaps, that no con- 
tinental country would offer him a secure 
asylum, induced him to return to Bridge water^ 
and there prepare for one final and desperate 
stake in the hazardous game he had chosen 
to play. 

xxvii. The careless disposition which Fe- 
versham had made of his forces in the neigh- 
bouring village of Sedgmoor, seemed to invite 
an attack ; and had Monmouth possessed the 



BATTLE OF SEDGDOOE. 71 

capacity of but a third-rate general, lie might 
have seized an easy victory. It was, indeed, 
determined that an attempt should be made at 
night, when it was known that Feversham in- 
dulged himself and his men in the vilest 
orgies. But there was one in the royal army 
whose vigilance did not sleep, who watched 
while his commander drank or slept ; John 
Churchill, afterwards Duke of Marlborough, 
and the hero of Blenheim, Eamillies, Oude- 
nard, and Malplaquet ; and it was his capa- 
city that in the ensuing contest saved King 
James's soldiers from the disgrace of a total 
defeat. 

xxviii. It was about eleven o'clock on the 
night of the 5th of July, that, favoured by a 
heavy mist, Monmouth's courageous but ill- 
disciplined adherents moved steadily towards 
the village of Sedgmoor. They reached the 
camp of the royalists at one, but instead of 
commencing a simultaneous attack upon all 
points, as intended, they stumbled in the dark- 
ness on Lord Dumbarton's regiment, and the 
struggle which ensued aroused the entire army. 
Between Monmouth's forces and the royalists 
ran a swift stream, over which their guide 
would have conducted them by a convenient 



72 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

ford, but as soon as thej cauglit sight of the 
enemy, their undisciplined courage broke 
through all restraints, and despite the exer- 
tions of their officers, they rushed to the 
attack. After a swift, fierce fight they 
were compelled to retire, and seek the ford- 
ing place; a task of no small difficulty, 
for in their confusion they had lost their 
guide. They crossed the stream in disorder, 
to find the royalists fully armed, and drawn 
up in battle array to receive them. Never- 
theless, with admirable heroism, they threw 
themselves upon the hostile pikes, and fell 
in scores before the royal artillery. Mon- 
mouth fought with a brilliant courage, which 
showed him not unworthy to lead such gallant 
men ; while so heavy was the on -rush of the 
Somersetshire hinds, that the king's troops 
began to waver. At this critical juncture, the 
horse, led by the cowardly Lord Grey, as if 
seized with a sudden panic, broke from the field, 
and the royalist cavalry was thus enabled to 
turn the flank of the insurgents, and plunge into 
their midst with terrible swords. The battle 
was over. For three hours had the undiscip- 
lined peasantry of the west withstood King 
James's veteran troops, but now, deserted by 



THE ROUT. 73 

their comrades, and short of ammunition, they 
were constrained to give way. The retreat 
became a rout, and the rout a massacre. 
About 1500 fell in the engagement and the 
pursuit. As many were taken prisoners, — 
and treated with a foul severity, which 
blackened their conqueror's name with an 
eternal infamy. The Duke of Monmouth had 
from the beginning of his desperate attempt 
behaved with conduct and courage, as the 
king himself allowed,"' but he was deficient in 
the qualities of a great general, as his forces, 
however brilliant in valour, lacked the excel- 
lencies of veteran troops. Perceiving that all 
hope was lost, he rode desperately from the 
bloody field, to hide himself, if possible, in 
some of the less accessible coverts of the New 
Forest. 

xxviii. Conspicuous in the fight at Sedg- 
moor, was the priest militant, Mew, Bishop of 
Winchester, who, during the civil troubles of 
Charles the First^s reign, had been a captain 
in the army. Laying aside his episcopal 
character, he again became " active in the 

* Eeresby. But Fox accuses him of having left the field while his 
troops were still fighting, " and therefore too soon for his glory." 

VOL. II. E 



74 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

soldiery way," and "performed singular ser- 
vice in the managing of the great guns/' It 
should also be stated, to his honour, that after 
the battle he was humanely active on behalf 
of the unhappy prisoners. Observing that the 
brutal Feversham was about to hang several 
of them on every post he met with, the bishop 
came up and expostulated with him : " My 
lord," said he, " this is murder in law. These 
poor wretches, now the battle is over, must be 
tried before they are put to death." 

xxix. Monmouth had ridden some twenty 
miles on his weary way when his horse sank 
beneath him from fatigue. He then changed 
clothes with a peasant, and continued his way 
on foot. The search after him, however, was 
too hot to be long eluded. He was disco- 
vered in a dry ditch, covered with fern, in 
a place called The Island, near Hollbridge, 
in Dorsetshire — '' an extensive tract of land 
separated by an enclosure from the open 
country, and divided by numerous hedges into 
small fields." Here, for two days, had lain 
concealed — his whole supply of provisions 
some dry peas — Charles the Second's favourite 
and once brilliant son. He offered no resist- 



HIS CAPTUEE. 75 

ance to his captors, but trembled violently, 
and overcome by long watching and fasting, 
burst into hysterical tears. He afterwards 
acknowledged that, from the day of his dis- 
embarcation to that of his capture, he had 
never enjoyed a night's rest, nor eaten a meal 
in peace, and for three whole weeks he had 
never been in bed. His '' George " was found 
upon him, and sent, with the news of his 
capture, to the king, who straightway an- 
nounced the joyful tidings in the London 
Gazette : — 

"Whitehall, July 8th, 
'' At twelve o'clock at night. 

" His Majesty has just now received an ac- 
count that the late Duke of Monmouth was 
taken this morning in Dorsetshire, being hid 
in a ditch, and that he is in the hands of my 
Lord Lumley." 

XXX. Lord Lumley conducted his prisoner 
to Eingwood, where he remained two days 
and nights (July 9 and 10). He suffered, it 
is said, at this period, severe mental agony 
and depression, aggravated, perhaps, by the 
bodily fatigue and privation which he had 
undergone. His courage seemed to have 

E 2 



76 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

deserted liim. He who could face unmoved 
the thunder of an enemy's cannon could not 
contemplate without emotion the prospect of 
a violent death upon a public scaffold. He 
was young, and he had yet much to live for 
— much to make life happy, and he therefore 
stooped to ask pardon of one whom not even 
his panegyrists could praise as inclined to 
pity the unfortunate, or forgive those who 
had offended him. He addressed the King 
in the most pathetic language. He laid all 
the blame on the evil advisers he had unfor- 
tunately met with — " But, Sir,'' he continued, 
'' I will not trouble your Majesty with many 
things I could say for myself, that I am sure 
would move your compassion, the chief end 
of this letter being only to beg of you that I 
may have that happiness to speak to your 
Majesty ; for I have that to say to you, sir, 
that I hope may give you a long and happy 
reign. I am sure, sir, when you hear me you 
will be convinced of the zeal I have for your 
preservation, and how heartily I repent of 
what I have done. Therefore, sir, I shall 
make an end by begging your Majesty to be- 
lieve so well of me, that I would rather die a 



BEGS FOR LIFE. 77 

thousand deaths than excuse anything I have 
done ; if I really did not think myself the 
most in the wrong that ever man ws\s, and 
had not from the bottom of my heart an 
abhorrence of those who put me upon it, and 
for the action itself. I hope God Almighty 
will strike ^your heart with mercy and com- 
passion for me, as He has done mine with ab- 
horrence of what I have done.'' 

xxxi. On the following day he also ad- 
dressed a supplicatory letter to the Queen 
Dowager, Catherine of Braganza, by whom 
he had always been befriended : — 

" Madam, 

" Being in this unfortunate condition, 
and having none left but your Majesty that I 
think may have some compassion, and that 
for the last King's sake, makes me take this 
boldness to beg you to intercede for me. I 
would not desire your Majesty to do it, if I 
were not from the bottom of my heart con- 
vinced how I have been deceived into it, and 
how angry God Almighty is with me for it. 
But I hope. Madam, your intercession will 
give me life to repent of it, and to show the 
King how really and truly I will serve him 



78 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

hereafter. And I hope, madam, jour Majesty 
will be convinced that the life you save shall 
ever be devoted to your service : for I have 
been, and ever shall be, 

" Your Majesty^s most dutiful and obedient 
Servant, 

" MONMOUTEI." 

xxxii. From Eingwood Monmouth was 
conducted by Lord Lumley, and a body of 
militia, to Winchester, and from thence by 
way of Farnham Castle and Guildford, to 
Vauxhall, where he arrived on the 13th of 
July. From Vauxhall he proceeded by wa- 
ter, under the escort of Lord Dartmouth's 
regiment, to Whitehall, and remained there 
during the day. In the evening he was re- 
moved to the Tower, accompanied in the 
same coach by Colonel William Legge, who 
had orders to stab him to the heart if the 
populace attempted a rescue. It was imme- 
diately intimated to him that as a prisoner 
captured in open war against his king he 
would only be allowed two days to prepare 
for his end. 

xxxiii. But Monmouth had not yet aban- 
doned all hope. In love with life, he dis- 



THE king's ceuelty. 79 

played in Ms last days a meanness of wlilch 
lie had hitlierto been considered incapable. 
When he had embarked on his perilous en- 
terprise he must have known that one of two 
prospects awaited him ; victory and a crown 
— defeat and the scaffold. And yet for the lat- 
ter dread alternative he showed himself utterly 
unprepared. He earnestly besought the king 
to grant him an interview, though from the 
relentless cruelty of James's nature and the 
magnitude of his own offences, he should 
have felt that it could only end in his further 
humiliation. Nor was the conduct of the 
king less unworthy. That he was justified 
in exacting the penalties of high treason from 
so notorious an offender, who had usurped his 
regal title and charged him with the basest 
and blackest crimes, cannot be doubted ; but 
it was cruel and unjust to excite his hopes by 
admitting him to his presence at a time when 
lie had already determined upon showing him 
no mercy. He should have remembered that 
Monmouth was his brother's son, and the 
godfather of one of his own children ; that 
in happier years they had met in social inter- 
course, and joined in the same scenes of mirth 
and revelry ; he might have reflected on the 



80 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

indecency of openly triumphing over a fallen 
foe. But James was eager to cheat him into 
a full confession, and to exult in his victim's 
agonies ; on the one hand to satisfy his sus- 
picious temper, on the other to indulge his 
unrelenting disposition. 

xxxiv. The interview took place at White- 
hall, — the scene of Monmouth's former 
triumphs, and where he had passed the hap- 
piest days of his life. In its glittering saloons 
he had figiu'ed as " the observed of all ob- 
servers ;" had been caressed by the imperious 
Castlemaine, the lovely Frances Stewart, and 
t!ie fascinating Louise de Qu6rouaille ; had 
exchanged repartees with Eochester, and in- 
trigued with Shaftesbury. He passed now 
into the presence of James and his Queen, a 
prisoner, his arms tied behind him with a 
silken rope. What a rush of burning memo- 
ries must have perturbed his brain, as he 
gazed upon the scenes so familiar to his eyes 
in the days of his prosperity and splendour ! 
How bitter the contrasts of his earlier and 
his later life ! The palace, and the boudoir 
of beauty, and the council chamber ; the rapid 
flight, the dry ditch, the scanty meal of 
parched peas, the prison, and — the future 



AN INTERVIEW. 81 

scaffold ! Do jou think in this hour of agony 
that he did not curse the weakness of his 
ambition, and the credulous vanity which had 
made him the tool of reckless conspirators ? 

xxxiv. Flinging himself upon his knees at 
the king's feet, he passionately implored him 
for mercy. He acknowledged, weeping, that 
he deserved to die, but added that if his 
life were spared it should henceforward be 
consecrated to his service. He admitted that 
King Charles had confessed to him that he 
was never married to his mother. He ex- 
pressed his willingness to change his religion, 
reminding the King that in his youth he had 
actually been bred in the faith of the Church 
of Rome. "Eemember, sir,'' he exclaimed, 
" I am your brother's son, and if you take 
away my life you shed your own blood." 
Upon the ears of any other man than James 
this last pathetic appeal could hardly have 
fallen without effect. Monmouth was now so 
low that he had ceased to be an object of fear. 
His life might have been spared without impe- 
rilling the safety of the crown. But the tyrant 
was inexorable. Finding the Duke had no im- 
portant disclosures to make, or that he shrank 

E 5 



82 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

from the baseness of implicating others in 
his ruin, he stood unmoved before his kneel- 
ing victim. According to Bishop Kennet, 
even Marj of Modena heaped upon him the 
most arrogant and unmerciful insults. Alas, 
how different the fallen suppliant — bathed in 
tears, and clinging to a tyrant's knees — from 
that gay and splendid prmce whom Dryden, 
but four short years before, had addressed in 
glowing verse. Did the resonant music of 
those vigorous lines recur to him in the mo- 
ment of his deep humiliation ? 

" Auspicious prince, at whose nativity 
Some royal planet rul'd the southern sky, 
Thy longing country's darling and desire. 
Their cloudy pillar and their guardian fire ; 
Their second Moses, whose extended wand 
Divides the seas, and shows the promis'd land ; 
Whose dawning day in every distant age 
Has exercis'd the sacred prophet's rage : 
The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme, 
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream. 
Believe me, royal youth, thy fruit must be 
Or gather'd ripe, or rot upon the tree 1" 

At last, after a painful interview, when he 
perceived that nothing could be gained by 
further submissions, Monmouth rose from his 
knees, and retired with becoming dignity from 
the royal presence. 



A ROYAL LETTER. 83 

XXXV. It was after this scene that James 
despatched a letter to his son-in-law, the 
Prince of Orange, which vividly illustrates 
the harshness of his character. He could 
write thus coldly of an interview on which a 
nephew's life depended : 

" Whitehall, July 14th, 1685. 

" The Duke of Monmouth is brought up 
hither with Lord Gray and the Branden- 
burgher. The two first desired earnestly to 
speak with me, as having things of import- 
ance to say to me, which they did, but did not 
answer my expectation in what they said to 
me; the Duke of Monmouth seemed more 
concerned and desirous to live, and did be- 
have himself not quite so well as I expected, 
nor so as one ought to have expected, from one 
who had taken upon him to be king. I have 
signed the warrant for his execution to-mor- 
row. For Lord Gray, he appeared more re- 
solute and ingenious, and never so much as 
once asked for his life." In his next commu- 
nication to William, he says : " He was very 
solicitous to have gained more time, and did 
many things towards it, not very decent for 
one who had taken on him the title of king.' ' 

xxxvi. One day only was allowed the Duke 



84 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH, 

to prepare for death. Still nourishing hope, he 
wasted the time in fruitless supplications for 
mercy, as if he, who in the late rebellion had 
not spared even women and children, would 
extend his clemency to its leader, to his long 
detested rival, and dangerous competitor for 
the crown ! He implored Lord Dartmouth 
to intercede for him. " I know, my lord," 
he said, " that you loved my father : for his 
sake, for God's sake, try if there be room for 
mercy.'^ When he was told that such an in- 
tercession would be hopeless, he once more 
addressed himself to the king : 

" Sir, 

" I have received your Majesty's order 
this day that I am to die to-morrow. 1 was 
in hopes, sir, by what your Majesty said to 
me yesterday, of taking care of my soul, that 
I should have had some little more time ; for 
truly, sir, this is very short. I do beg of your 
Majesty, if it be possible to let me have one 
day more, that I may go out of the world as 
a christian ought. 

" I had desired several times to speak to 
my Lord Arundel of Wardour, which I do 
desire still. I hope your Majesty will grant 
it me 5 and I do beg of your Majesty to let 



LAST HOUES. 85 

me know by him if there is nothing in this 
world that can recal your sentence, or at 
least reprieve me for some time. I was in 
hopes I should have lived to have served you, 
which I think I could have done to a great 
degree, but your Majesty does not think fit. 
Therefore, sir, I shall end my days with being 
satisfied that I had all the good intentions 
imaginable for it, and should have done it, 
being that I am 

" Your Majesty's most dutiful, 

" Monmouth." 

"I hope your Majesty will give Dr. Ten- 
ison leave to come to me, or any other 
that your Majesty will be pleased to grant 
me." 

xxxvii. Mr. Jesse has pointed out that 
Monmouth's feverish eagerness to obtain an 
additional day's delay in the execution of 
his sentence, probably proceeded from super- 
stitious motives, as much as from a clinging 
to life. He is said to have given singular 
credence to a fortune-teller's prediction that 
if he outlived St. Swithin's day, he would 
become a great man. And, by a strange 
coincidence, it was upon St. Swithin's day 
that he was fated to die. " Nor was this the 



86 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

only evidence we possess of Monmouth's su- 
perstition. On the occasion of his capture, a 
manuscript was found on his person, consist- 
ing of ' spells, charms, and conjurations, 
written in his own hand. Archbishop Teni- 
son also mentions that after Monmouth's death, 
there was discovered, underneath the stone 
of his ring, a charm, which he had obtained 
from a German mountebank, professing to be 
a preservative in the day of battle, or against 
imminent danger." 

xxxviii. The evening before the fatal day 
of doom, his Duchess, whom he had cruelly 
neglected, expressed an earnest desire to be 
permitted to take her farewell of him. 
Monmouth consented, though not without 
some reluctance. Accordingly to Evelyn, he 
received her coldly, and chiefly addressed him- 
self to Henry, Earl of Clarendon, who had 
accompanied her. On the following morning, 
however, he admitted her to a second inter- 
view, and showed himself sensible of her deep 
and unchanging affection. The particulars 
have been preserved by a writer,'" who was 
present at the mournful scene : — '' The Duke's 
behaviour," he says, " all the time was brave 

* Quoted in Scott's Dryden. 



A LAST INTERVIEW. 87 

and unmoved ; and even during the last con- 
versation and farewell with his lady and 
children, which was the movingest thing in 
the world, and which no bystander could 
see without melting into tears, he did not 
show the least concernedness. He declared 
before all the company how averse the 
Duchess had been to all his irregular courses, 
and that she had never been uneasy to him 
on any occasion whatever but about women, 
and his failing of duty to the late king. And 
that she knew nothing of his last design, not 
having heard from himself a year before, which 
was his own fault, and no unkindness in her, 
because she knew not how to direct her letters 
to him. In that he gave her the kindest 
character that could be, and begged her 
pardon of his many failings and offences to 
her, and prayed her to continue her kindness 
and care to her poor children. At this ex- 
pression she fell down on her knees, with her 
eyes full of tears, and begged him to pardon 
her if ever she had done anything to offend 
and displease him, and embracing his knees, 
fell into a swoon, out of which they had much 
ado to raise her up, in a good while after. A 
little before, his children were brought to him, 



88 . JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

all crying about him, but he acquitted him- 
self of these last adieus with much compo- 
sure, showing nothing of weakness or unman- 
liness." 

xxxix. To assist the unfortunate duke in 
his devotions. Dr. Tenison, afterwards Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, Turner, Bishop of Ely, 
Ken, Bishop of Bath and Wells, and Dr. 
Hooper, were permitted to attend him. Some 
Catholic divines had been sent to him from 
court ; '' but,*' says Macaulay, " they soon 
discovered that, though he would gladly have 
purchased his life by renouncing the religion 
of which he had professed himself in an espe- 
cial manner the defender, yet, if he was to 
die, he would as soon die without their abso- 
lution as with it.'' Bishops Ken and Turner 
discharged their painful duty with all tender- 
ness, and yet with conscientious faithfulness, 
sitting up with him during the night of the 
15th of July, and endeavouring to prepare 
him for eternity. They found him confident 
of eternal happiness, but only disposed to 
an imperfect repentance, as he absolutely 
denied the wickedness of his rebellion or 
the sin of his adulterous connection with 
Lady Henrietta Wentworth. Burnet gives 



THE BISHOPS. 89 

a graphic account of his conversation 
with the two prelates."' " They continued 
still to press on him," he says, " a deep sense 
of the sin of rebellion ; at which he grew so 
uneasy that he desired them to speak to him 
of other matters. They next charged him 
with the sin of living with the Lady Went- 
worth as he had done. In that he justified 
himself: he had married his duchess too 
young to give a true consent. He said that 
lady was a pious, worthy woman, and that he 
had never lived so well in all respects as since 
his engagements with her. All the pains they 
took to convince him of the unlawfulness of 
that course of life had no effect. They did 
certainly very well in discharging their con- 
sciences, and speaking so plainly to him, but 
they did very ill to talk so much of this matter 
and to make it so public as they did; for 
divines ought not to repeat what they say to 
dying penitents, no more than what the peni- 
tents say to them. By this means the Duke 
of Monmouth had little satisfaction in them, 
and they had as little in him. He was much 
better pleased with Dr. Tenison, who did yery 
plainly speak to him with relation to his 

* Burnet's History of His Own Time. 



90 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

public actings and to his course of life ; but 
lie did it in a softer, and less peremptory 
manner. And having said all that he thought 
proper, he left those points in which he saw 
he could not convince him, to his own con- 
science, and turned to other things fit to be 
laid before a dying man." 

xl. A somewhat different account is given 
by Lloyd, Bishop of St. Asaph, who, it is rea- 
sonable to suppose, obtained his information 
from one of the officiating prelates. " They 
got him,'' he says,* " to own that he and 
Lady Henrietta Wentworth had lived in 
all points like man and wife, but they 
could not get him to confess it was 
adultery. He acknowledged that he and 
his duchess were married by the law of 
the land, and therefore his children might 
inherit if the king pleased. But he did not 
consider what he did when he married her. 
He confessed that he had lived many years in 
all sorts of debauchery, but said he had re- 
pented of it, asked pardon, and doubted not 
that God had forgiven him." He spoke to 
them the next morning in a similar strain. 
He said he had prayed that if he was in error 

* Aubrey's Letters of Eminent Men. 



DE. TENISON. 91 

in that matter, God would convince him of it ; 
but God had not convinced him, and there- 
fore he believed it was no error. The pre- 
lates thereupon refused to administer the Sa- 
crament to him. He simply replied that he 
was sorry for it. And he was equally deter- 
mined in his refusal to admit the sinfulness of 
his late rebelliun. 

xli. On the morning of his execution he 
was visited by Dr. Tenison, who had also be- 
queathed to posterity a record of their inter- 
view: "I was sent for,'^ he says, "to the 
Duke of Monmouth in the Tower, on the day 
of his execution ; the duke knowing me better 
than the two prelates. Bishop Ken and Bishop 
Turner. He took me aside to the window 
and held a long conversation with me, too 
m.uch upon his own follies. When, among 
other things, T mentioned a report of his 
Grace's preaching in the army, ' No,' said 
the duke, ' I never preached ; nobody preaches 
but Ferguson, and he very foolishly many 
times. That man/ says he, ' is a bloody vil- 
lain.' When I minded him of being better 
reconciled to his duchess, he owned his heart 
had been turned from her, and he pretended 
the cause of it to be, that in his affliction she 



92 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

had gone to plays, and into public companies, 
' by which,' said he, ' I knew she did not love 
me/ When I charged him with his conver- 
sation with Mrs. Wentworth, he freely owned 
it, and said he had no children by her ; but 
he had heard it was lawful to have one wife 
in the eye of the law, and another before God/ 
I then took a Bible and laboured to convince 
him of the falsehood and the ill-consequences 
of such a principle. ' Well,' says he, ' but if 
a man be bred up in a false notion, what shall 
he do when he has but two hours to live ?' 
The duke pulled out a gold watch, and pressed 
me to carry it in his name to Mrs. Went- 
'^orth, which I positively refused, and said I 
could not be concerned in any such message 
or token to her. The duke did not seem at 
all profane or atheistical, but had rather a cast 
of enthusiasm in him." 

xlii. About ten o'clock in the morning 
Monmouth, still accompanied by the two pre- 
lates, in accordance with his earnest en- 
treaty, was conducted in the coach of the 
Lieutenant of the Tower to Tower Hill. 
The road on each side was lined with 
soldiers, and the carriage attended by a strong 
escort, who, had any rescue been undertaken, 



HIS EXECUTION. 93 

were directed to shoot him. He ascended the 
scaffold with perfect composure, though the 
populace were affected to tears, and with sighs 
and moans expressed their concern for their 
once brilliant favorite. Turning towards 
them, he spoke a few words of farewell. " I 
shall say litile,'' he begun, '' I come here not to 
speak, but to die. I die a Protestant of the 
Church of England.'' Here the bishops in- 
terrupted him, declaring that as he would not 
confess the sinfulness of resistance against his 
king, he was not a member of the Anglican 
Church. He continued : " I have had a scan- 
dal raised upon me about a woman, a lady of 
virtue and honor ; I will name her — the Lady 
Henrietta Wentworth. I declare she is a very 
virtuous and godly woman ; I have committed 
no sin with her, and that which hath passed 
betwixt us was very honest and innocent in 
the sight of God. I can bless God that He 
has given me so much grace, that for these 
two years last past I have led a life unlike to 
my former course, and have been happy." 

The Bishops — " In your opinion perhaps, 
sir, as you have been often told ; but this is 
not fit discourse in this place." 



94 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

Mr. Sheriff Goslin — " Sir, were you ever 
married to her ?" 

Monmouth — " This is not a time to answer 
that question." 

The prelates now commenced praying for 
him, and the Duke knelt down and joined 
them. Before they again rose from their 
knees, he was once more exhorted to a true 
and full repentance. 

After they were risen up he was entreated 
to pray for the King ; and was asked whether 
he did not desire to send some dutiful message 
to his Majesty, and to recommend his wife 
and children to his Majesty's favour. 

Monmouth — " What harm have they done ? 
Do it if you please ; I pray for him and for all 
men." 

The Bishops — (Repeating the versicles) — 
" Lord, show Thy mercy upon us." 

Monmouth — "And grant us Thy salva- 
tion." 

The Bishops — " Lord, save the King." 

Monmouth — "And mercifully hear us 
when we call upon Thee." 

The Bishops — " Sir, do you not pray for the 
King with us ? — Lord, save the King !" 



HIS EXECUTION. 95 

Monmouth, after a pause — " Amen !'' 

Then lie spake to the executioner concerning 
his undressing, and that he would have no cap. 
And at the beginning of his undressing it was 
said to him in this manner : — 

The Bishops — " Mj Lord, jou have been 
bred a soldier; you would do a generous 
Christian thing, if you please to go to the 
rail, and speak to the soldiers, and say, that 
hear you stand a sad example of rebellion, 
and entreat them to be loyal and obedient to 
the King.'' 

Monmouth — " I have said I will make no 
speeches. I will make no speeches. I come 
to die." 

The Bishops — " My Lord, ten words would 
be enough." 

Then calling his servant, and giving him 
something like a tooth-pick case, " here (said 
he), give this to the person [the Lady Hen- 
rietta] to whom you are to deliver the other 
things." 

Monmouth (to the executioner) — " Here 
are six guineas for you : pray do your business 
well. Do not serve me as you did my Lord 
Eussell *, 1 have heard you struck him three 
or four times." 



96 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

" Here," — to his servant — " take these re- 
maining guineas, and give them to him if he 
does his work well/' 

Executioner — " I hope I shall." 

Monmouth —" If you strike me twice, I 
cannot promise you not to stir." 

During his undressing and standing to- 
wards the block, there were used by those 
who assisted him divers ejaculations proper 
at that time, and much of the 51st Psalm was 
repeated, and particularly, " Deliver me from 
blood-guiltiness, God ! thou God," &c. 

Then he lay down, and soon after he raised 
himself upon his elbow, and said to the ex- 
ecutioner, " Prithee, let me feel the axe.'' He 
felt the edge, and said, " I fear it is not sharp 
enough." 

Executioner — " It is sharp enough, and 
heavy enough." 

Then he lay down. 

During this space many pious ejaculations 
were used, by those who assisted him, with 
great fervency. Ex. gr, " God accept your 
repentance, God accept your repentance, God 
accept your imperfect repentance ; my Lord, 
God accept your general repentance ; God 
Almighty show his. Omnipotent mercy upon 



A MISEEABLE TRAGEDY. 97 

you ; Father, into Tliy hands we commend 
his spirit. Lord Jesus, receive his soul." 

Then the executioner proceeded to do his 
office. 

Of the miserable tragedy which followed 
an eye-witness has preserved a pathetic 
narrative : 

" The Duke would have no cap to his head, 
nor have anie thing on his face ; and yett for 
all this the botcherly dog, the executioner, did 
so barbarously act his pairt, that he could not, 
at fyve stroaks of the ax, sever the head from 
the body. At the first, which made only a 
slender dash in his neck, his body heaved 
up, and his head turned about, the second 
stroak he made only a deeper dash, after which 
the body moved ; the third, not being the 
work, he threw away the ax, and said, ' God 
damn me, I can doe no more, my heart fails 
me.' The byestanders had much adoe to 
forbear throwing him over the scaffold ; but 
made him take the ax again, threatening to 
kill him if he did not doe his duty better, 
which two stroaks more not being able to 
finish the work, he was fain at last to draw 
forth his long knife, and with it to cutt of 

VOL. II. F 



98 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

the remaining pairt of his neck." The ex- 
ecutioner's name was John Ketch, whence 
the term of opprobrium popular even at the 
present day. 

xliii. " Thus perished," to quote the lan- 
guage of Hume, " in the thirty-sixth year of 
his age, a nobleman who, in less turbulent 
times, was well qualified to be an ornament 
of the court, even to be serviceable to his 
country. The favour of his prince, the 
caresses of faction, and the allurements of 
popularity, seduced him into enterprises which 
exceeded his capacity : the goodwill of the 
people still followed him ; even after his ex- 
ecution, their fond credulity flattered them 
with hopes of seeing him once more at their 
head ; they believed that the person executed 
w^as not Monmouth ; but one who, having the 
fortune to resemble him nearly, was willing 
to give this proof of his extreme attachment, 
and to suffer death in his stead/' As late as 
the reign of George III. Voltaire considered it 
necessary to prove the falsity of a report that 
the Duke of Monmouth was really the " Man 
in the Iron Mask.'' 

xliv. The conduct of James, after the 



A DEED OF BUTCHERY. 99 

execution of his rival, was unworthy of a 
Christian King. He caused a medal to be 
struck in commemoration of the deplorable 
event which most men would have willingly 
forgotten, and thus degraded an act of justice 
into a deed of butchery. The obverse of the 
medal presented the bust of Monmouth, 
without any inscription ; on the reverse might 
be seen a young man falling into the sea from 
a lofty rock which he had vainly attempted 
to climb. On the summit of this rock three 
crowns were placed amidst thorns and bram- 
bles, and the legend Superi rishre^ ^^J 6, 
1685, was engraved beneath. His banner 
and insignia as Knight of the Garter were 
torn down from his state in St. George's 
Chapel, at Windsor, and contemptuously 
flung into the castle ditch. 

xlv. Monmouth left three children by his 
duchess — James, Earl of Dalkeith, who died 
in 1705, aged 21 ; Henry, Earl of Deloraine, 
deceased in 1739 ; and the Lady Anne, who 
died of grief in August, 1685, scarcely four 
weeks after her mournful interview with her 
father in the tower. 

His Duchess married a second time in 

F 2 



100 JAMES, DUKE OF MONMOUTH. 

May, 1688, when she became the wife of 
Lord Cornwallis, by whom she had a son and 
two daughters, who all died unmarried. 
Her admirable patience and decorous fortitude 
have been commemorated by the poet : — 

"For she had known adversity, 
Though born in such a high degree ; 
In pride of power, in beauty's bloom, 
Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb T'—Scott. 

The Duchess died on the 6th of February, 
1702, in her 81st year. The present Duke 
of Buccleuch is her lineal descendant. 



CHAPTER III. 



JAMES, DUKE OF YORK, AFTERWARDS JAMES 
THE SECOND. 



[AuTHOEiTiES : — Clarke's Life of James II.; Fox's History of the 
Reign of James II. ; Bishop Burnet's History of His Own Time ; 
Oldmixon's Diary; Lingard's History of England; Macaulay's 
History of England ; Reresby's Diary ; Aubrey's Letters of 
Eminent Persons ; The Stuart Papers ; &o,; &c.] 



CHAPTEE III. 



JAMES DUKE OF YORK, AFTERWARDS JAMES 
THE SECOND. 



" Qui prius angusta gestabat fronte coronam 
Exigua nunc pulvereus requiescit in urna. 
Quid solium, quid et alta juvant ? terit omnia lethum ; 
Verum laus fidei ac morum baud peritura manebit. 
Tu quoque, summe Deus, regem quern regius hospes 
Infaustum excepit, tecum regnare jubebis. 

Epitaph on James II., at St. Germains. 



i. James, the second surviving son of 
Charles the First and Henrietta Maria, was 
born at St. Jaroes's Palace, on the 15th of 
October, 1633. He was proclaimed at the 
hour of his birth Duke of York, though he 
did not receive the patent of the title until 
the 27th of January, 1643. He was 
christened on the 24:th of October — nine days 



104 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

after his birth — by the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury; the ceremony being performed with 
the usual magnificence, and followed in the 
evening by a splendid banquet. 

ii. His childhood was spent at St. James's, 
*n company with his youthful brother and 

ter, Henry, Duke of Gloucester, and the 
1: "ncess Elizabeth, until the year 1641, when, 
at the outbreak of the civil war, the king 
desired to send him to remove him to York. 
The parliament thought fit to interdict his 
removal, but James was in the hands of a 
loyal nobleman, the Marquis of Hertford, 
who, having little regard for the predominant 
faction in the commons, conveyed him with 
all speed to his father's court. On his arrival 
there, though he was only in his eighth year, 
king Charles, who was as indulgent as a 
parent as he was uxorious as a husband, con- 
ferred upon him the order of the Garter. 

iii. From York, the young Duke was 
removed to Hull, and entrusted to the guar- 
dianship of Sir John Hot ham. When that 
treacherous partisan revealed his defection 
rom the royal cause, by refusing to admit 
King Charles and his retinue when they pre- 
sented themselves before the gates, the 



A PEISONER. ' 105 

Duke of York was still a resident in the 
town, but for some unexplained reason the 
parliament did not detain him, but suffered 
him to rejoin his father, who placed him in 
secure hands, and watched over his various 
movements until the surrender of Oxford in 
1646.* The royal youth then fell into the 
hands of the Eoundheads, and was immedi- 
ately placed in charge of Sir George Eatcliffe, 
until the intentions of the parliament could 
be ascertained. Fairfax and his officers 
shortly afterwards paid him a ceremonious 
visit, when, as James at a later period recor- 
ded, Fairfax was the only officer present who 
forebore to kiss his hand, and Cromwell the 
only officer who courteously bent his knee. 

iv. In July, 1646, the Duke was removed 
to St. James's Palace, where, with the Duke 
of Gloucester and the Princess Elizabeth, he 
was placed under the ward of Algernon 
Percy, Earl of Northumberland. That noble- 
man, throughout the period of his guardian- 
ship, behaved to the royal children with the 
most delicate consideration. The Duke was 

* The young Duke was present at the siege of Bristol, and was 
also a spectator of the battle of Bdgehill. On this last occasion both 
Prince Charles and himself narrowly escaped the enemy's fire. 

F 5 



106 ' JAMES, DUKE OF YOKK. j 

allowed on several occasions to visit the | 
captive king, both at Maidenhead and Hamp- 
ton Court ; and Charles would sometimes 
ride over to Sion House, to see his children, 
and enjoy their company. He availed him- 
self of these opportunities to inculcate upon 
their youthful minds the principles of religious 
duty, and especially to teach them a proper ^ 
reverence for the established Church of 
England. 

V. Both Charles and Henrietta Maria were 
anxious that the Duke should effect his escape 
as soon as possible. He made two attempts, 
which were unsuccessful, and having been 
discovered, led to his examination before a 
committee of the parliament, and a threat of 
incarceration in the Tower. The third effort 
was crowned with success, in no slight 
measure through the courage and presence of 
mind of the youthful prisoner. His only 
confidants were a Mr. George Howard and a 
Colonel Bamfield ; and the manner in which 
it was effected, on the night of the 20th of 
April, 1648, has thus been described by 
James himself.* 

* We have already given this narrative in the preceding chapter, 
but to save the reader the trouble of frequent reference, we repeat 
it here in extenso. 



AN ESCAPE EFFECTED. 107 

vi. " All things being in readiness . . the 
Duke went to supper at his usual hour, which 
was about seven, in the company of his bro- 
ther and sister, and, when supper was ended, 
they went to play at hide and seek, with the 
rest of the young people in the house. At 
this childish sport the Duke had accustoaied 
himself to play for a fortnight together every 
night, and had used to hide himself in places 
so difficult to find, that most commonly they 
were half-an-hour in searching for him ; at 
the end of which time he came usually out to 
them of his own accord. This blind he laid 
for his design, that they might be accustomed 
to miss him, before he really intended his es- 
cape; by which means, when he came to 
practice it in earnest, he was secure of gaining 
that half-an-hour before they could reasona- 
bly suspect he was gone. 

" His intention had all the effect he could 
desire ; for that night, so soon as they began 
their play, he pretended, according to his 
custom, to hide himself. But instead of so 
doing, he went first into his sister's chamber, 
and there locked up a little dog that used to 
follow him, that he might not be discovered 
by him ; then, slipping down by a pair of 



108 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

back stairs, which led into the inmost garden, 
having found means beforehand to furnish 
himself with a key of a back-door from the 
said garden into the park, he there found 
Bamfield, who was ready to receive him, and 
waited there with a footman who brought a 
cloak, which he threw over him, and put on 
a periwig. From thence they went through 
the Spring Garden, whence one Mr. Tripp 
was ready with a hackney coach, which car- 
ried them as far as Salisbury House. There 
the Duke went out of the coach with Bamfield, 
as if he had intended some visit in that house, 
and Tripp went forward with the coach, 
having received directions to drive into the 
city, and keep the coach as long as he could 
conveniently at that end of the town. But 
when they were gone the Duke and Bamfield 
went down Ivy -lane, where they took boat, 
and landed again on the same side of the river, 
close by the bridge. From thence they went 
into the house of one Loe, a surgeon, where 
they found Mrs Murray, who had woman's 
clothes in readiness to disguise the Duke. 
Being immediately dressed in the n, he de- 
parted thence, attended by Bamfield and his 
footman to Lion-key, where there waited a 



AN ESCAPE EFFECTED. 109 

"barge of four oars, into wHcli they entered, 
and so went down tlie river, the tide serving 
for the passage. 

" They were no sooner in the barge but the 
master began to suspect somewhat : for when 
Bamfield bespoke his attendance there with 
his barge, he had only told him he was to 
bring a friend; but now, finding a young woman 
brought without other company, it made him 
jealous there was something more in the 
business than he had first imagined ; the con- 
sideration of which did so much affright him, 
that his whole discourse in going down was 
employed in telling them it was impossible 
to pass by the Block-hoase at Gravesend, 
without discovery, and that they had no other 
way to get on board the ship, without waiting 
for them in the Hope, than to land at 
Gravesend, and there to procure a pair of 
oars to carry them on ship-board. And when 
Bamfield debated the matter with him, show- 
ing the difficulty and hazard of procuring a 
boat which should convey them to their ship, 
he raised new objections of his own danger, 
from the shining of the moon and other incon- 
veniences. But while they two were thus 
reasoning the matter, the master of the barge 



110 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

became fully satisfied concerning those suspi- 
cions which he had, that this woman was 
some disguised person of considerable quality ; 
for peeping through a cranny of the door into 
the barge-room, where there was a candle 
burning before the Duke, he perceived his 
Royal Highness laying his leg upon the table, 
and plucking up his stocking, in so unwoman- 
ship a manner, that he concluded his former 
surmises of him were undoubted truths, as he 
afterwards acknowledged to them.'^* 

vii. The Duke and his companion now 
made a virtue of necessity, and confided the 
secret to the suspicious bargeman. The con- 
fidence they reposed, and the bribe they of- 
fered, secured his fidelity ; and he exerted 
himself to favour their escape. All the lights 
on board were extinguished, and to prevent 
any noise being heard, the oars were not 
made use of, but the barge allowed to float 
down with the tide. Thus the Dutch vessel 
engaged by Bamfield was reached in safety, 
and in due time the fugitives were landed at 
Middleburgh, in Holland. 

viii. James's escape caused considerable 
excitement, and the proceedings of the Par- 

* Rev. J. S. Clarke's Life of James ii. 



PARLIAMENTARY PROCEEDINGS. Ill 

liament in consequence are thus reported by 
Eushworth: — "April 22, 1647. A message 
came from the Lords to the Commons, desir- 
ing a conference in the Painted Chamber, 
concerning the escape of the Duke of York 
last night from St. Jameses. At this con- 
ference report was made that the Duke, with 
his brother the Dake of Gloucester, and his 
sister the Lady Elizabeth, being sporting by 
themselves after supper, the duke privately 
slipt from 'em down the back stairs, without 
either cloak or coat, and having the key of 
the garden door, passed through the park, 
and so away." Immediate notice was given 
to the General, Sir Thomas Fairfax, and or- 
ders were issued that all the passages round 
London should be searched for him,- especially 
the roads towards Wales and the North, 
imagining he had taken that way or towards 
Scotland. The different seaports were also 
guarded, but James had already made his 
escape from Gravesend. 

ix. The Duke passed a night at Middle- 
burgh, and then removed to Dort, still retain- 
ing his woman's attire, until the return of the 
messenger he had despatched to his sister, 
the Princess of Orange, enabled him to re- 



112 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK, 



sume his proper garb. He was next conveyed 
in a yaclit to Maesland, where the Princess 
and her husband received him with affection- 
ate consideration, and Lord Byron, recently 
elevated to the peerage by King Charles, in 
acknowledgment of his faithful services to the 
royal cause, was appointed his governor. 
Early in 1648 he proceeded to join his mo- 
ther, the queen Henrietta Maria, at Paris, but 
halted at Cambray on receiving information 
of the troubles which had broken out in the 
capital, and the flight of the royal family 
from St. Germains. He then repaired to the 
Benedictine monastery of St. Amand, where 
he was comfortably entertained until the set- 
tlement of the civil commotions at Paris ena- 
bled him to join his mother. 

X. The Duke accompanied his brother 
Charles to Jersey in Sept. 1649, with a retinue 
of three hundred persons, though the two, on 
quitting Paris, had but three hundred pistoles 
to defray their travelling expenses. He re- 
mained there about four months, when he 
received orders from the Queen to return to 
France. As the Parliament were making 
ready a naval expedition to wrest the Chan- 
nel Islands from the hands of the royalists, 



HIS MOVEMENTS. 113 

James so far complied witli Henrietta Maria's 
summ«ons as to quit Jersey, but having es- 
tranged himself from his mother, who had 
behaved with great severity, and whose re- 
puted liaison with Jermyn, Viscount St. 
Albans, had lowered her authority over her 
children, he proceeded to Brussels instead of 
Paris, on a visit to his sister. The Princess 
of Orange, however, refused to see him until 
he had become reconciled with the Queen. 
The wanderer, therefore, continued his jour- 
ney as far as Ehenen, a residence of his aunt 
Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, where he re- 
sided until early in 1650. He was at length 
invited to visit the Prince and Princess of 
Orange at the Hague. His arrival there was 
almost contemporary with that of the Am- 
bassadors of the Commonwealth, and as it 
was the intention of the States to receive 
them with the ceremonials proper to their 
dignity, James withdrew to Breda, that he 
mio-ht not seem to countenance the honours 
paid to the representatives of his father's 
murderers. As soon as the reception was 
ended, he again repaired to the Hague, and 
remained there until the month of June, when 
a letter from his brother Charles enjoined 



114 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

upon him to proceed to Paris, and to ask the 
Queen-Mother's forgiveness. 

xi. The Duke commenced his military ca- 
reer in 1652, at the age of 20, when he suc- 
ceeded, after many solicitations, in obtaining 
his mother's consent to his serving in the 
French army under the illustrious Turenne 
against the Spanish forces in the Low Coun- 
tries. " The principal difficulty he had to 
encounter," says Mr. Jesse, '* was in raising 
a sum of money sufficient to furnish him with 
an outfit ; which, however, was at length ob- 
viated by one Gautier, a Gascon, advancing 
him three hundred pistoles. His brother 
Charles added a set of Polish coach horses, 
with which he departed in high spirits to his 
first campaign. His companions were Sir 
George Berkeley and a Colonel Worden, who 
together with three or four servants composed 
his retinue." 

xii. He served under the command of 
Turenne until 1655, when the treaty con- 
cluded between Louis XIV. and Cromwell, 
compelled his expulsion from the territories, 
and his dismissal from the army of France. 
During these three years of warfare he dis- 
tinguished himself by his devotion to his 



HIS BRAVERY. 115 

duties, his conspicuous military capacity, and 
the true Stuart intrepidity. The Prince de 
Gonde, whose praise even the son of a king 
could not disdain to refuse, said of him, that 
if ever there was a man without fear, it was 
the Duke of York; and Marshal Turenne 
was never weary of panegyrising his ardent 
valour and devoted zeal. But our limits will 
not permit us to recapitulate the incidents of 
the campaigns in which he shared, nor, in- 
deed, were they of such a nature, as to excite 
the interest of the English reader. Marches, 
and counter-marches, ambuscades and skir- 
mishes, manoeuvres which displayed the 
tactical skill of the commanders, but led to no 
decisive results, sieges conducted in accor- 
dance with set rules and prescribed forms ; 
into these dry bones it is now impossible to 
put life. No Napoleon had yet arisen to 
revolutionize the art of warfare, and the 
movements of even a Cond6 or a Turenne 
were almost as mechanical as those of well- 
disciplined automata. 

xiii. On quitting the French service the 
Duke offered his sword to the King of Spain, 
and like a soldier of fortune, fought without 
compunction against his former companions. 



116 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

His skill and gallantry in the protracted 
defence of Dunkirk against the French won 
him especial encomiums, though it could not 
prevail against the steadfast intrepidity of 
the six thousand troopers furnished by Crom- 
well to his new ally. While employed in 
the army of Spain he received £200 monthly 
to defray the expenses of his table, and was 
allowed a guard of honour of lifty well- 
equipped cavaliers. 

xiv. In 1660 the Duke of York, as heir 
presumptive to the Crown, accompanied 
Charles II. on his return to England, and 
assumed at once that place at Court to which 
his birth and rank entitled him. He was 
appointed Lord High Admiral, and a yearly 
allowance made him adequate to the support 
of his dignity. Soon afterwards he startled 
the court and country by his marriage with 
Anne Hyde, daughter of the Earl of Claren- 
don, the ablest and the most honest of the 
statesmen of the Commonwealth. 

XV. Anne Hyde was born in 1638. She 
accompanied her father abroad during the 
exile of the royal family, and was appointed 
maid of honour to the Princess of Orange, 
eldest sister of Charles II. The Duke of 



ANNE HYDE. 117 

York first saw her in attendance on his sister 
at the court of Henrietta Maria, and seems 
to have fallen in love with her at first-sight. 
He found her less compliant than most court 
ladies, and could not obtain possession of her 
person until he had signed a contract of 
marriage at Breda, oii the 24th of November, 
1659. The contract satisfied her scruples, 
but was reallj of no validity, if either the king 
refused his assent, or the Duke thought pro- 
per to behave dishonestly. As there seemed 
at that period but little hope of the restora- 
tion of the Stuarts to the throne of England, 
an alliance between a soldier of fortune and 
a maid of honour was not so unequal an one, 
but when Charles the Second replaced on his 
brow the crown of his ancestors, a marriage 
between the heir presumptive and the daugh- 
ter of his brother's minister appeared im- 
practicable. Anne Hyde, who was now on 
the eve of becoming a mother, felt keenly 
the misery of her position, and dreaded the 
indignation of her honourable and illustrious 
sire. She had also reason to apprehend that 
James, who was a libertine less from passion 
than calculation, had already experienced 
that satiety which in coarse minds springs 



118 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

from possession. She knew, too, that he was 
surrounded by an entourage of unscrupulous 
advisers, who would not fail to paint in vivid 
colours the disastrous effect which such a 
marriage might have upon his interests. To 
increase her anxieties, a foul intrigue was 
concerted against her fair fame,* which, save 
in the instance of the Duke of York, had 
never been sullied or besmeared. The chief 
conspirator against a woman's character was 
Sir Charles Berkeley, who prevailed upon his 
friends, Jermyn, Talbot and Arran, to inform 
tlie Duke that they had been the favoured 
lovers of his mistress, while Berkeley himself 
impudently asserted that he also had been 
admitted to her bed. James was too sagacious, 
however, to be duped by so palpable a plot, 
and though he forgave its concoctors, he 
thenceforth endeavoured, with all zeal and 
honesty of purpose, to fulfil his contract with 
Anne Hyde, and place a Duchess's crown 
upon her head. 

xvi. It now devolved upon James to ac- 
quaint his brother with the imprudent engage- 
ment he had formed at Breda. Flinging 
himself at the king's feet, he besought him 

* Pepys' Diary. 



HIS MARRIAGE. 119 

with tears in his eyes to sanction his fulfil- 
ment of his solemn promise. Were he not 
allowed to redeem his honour, he must im- 
mediately say farewell to England, and spend 
the remainder of his days abroad. Charles, 
after some hesitation, gave his assent, though 
not without much opposition from the Queen 
Dowager, who declared that she would quit 
Whitehall by one door when "that woman'' 
entered it by another ; and from the Princess of 
Orange, who cared not to see her former at- 
tendant elevated to a position of higher dig- 
nity than her own. Nor was the Earl of 
Clarendon less resolute in his opposition to 
the marriage, which, he said, would elevate 
him to a rank above that to which he was en- 
titled, and from which his downfall would be 
the greater. When acquainted by the Marquis 
of Ormond with the fact of his daughter's con- 
tract to the Duke, and her pregnancy by him, 
he broke into an immoderate passion of min- 
gled rage and sorrow ; declared that he would 
turn the strumpet out of his house, and leave 
her to shift for herself; and advised the king 
*' to send the woman to the Tower, and get 
an act passed for cutting off her head, which 
he would be the first to propose." It is diffi- 



120 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

cult to believe, however, that the ambitious 
minister could be insensible to the honour of 
becoming father-in-law to a rojal duke, and, 
perhaps, grandfather of a future king or 
queen. 

xvii. The influence of the peace-loving 
Charles at length removed every difficulty, 
and bore down all opposition. The marriage 
was celebrated at Worcester House, in the 
Strand, Lord Clarendon's residence, on the 
night of the 3rd of September, 1660, and was 
soon afterwards publicly owned. A suitable 
household was immediately appointed, and 
St. James's fitted up for her residence. A wit 
and a beauty, she gathered around her a bright 
and brilliant circle, and it was noticed that 
her court exceeded in its splendid exclusive- 
ness that of the Queen Dowager herself. It 
speedily appeared that in raising her to her 
lofty position James had raised a woman well 
fitted to adorn it. '' She had a majestic 
mien," says Grammont, "a pretty good 
shape, not much beauty, a great deal of wit, 
and so just a discernment of merit, that who- 
ever of either sex were possessed of it, were 
sure to be distinguished by her; an air of 
grandeur in all her actions made her to be 



HIS INFIDELITIES. 121 

considered as if boi'n to support tlie rank 
which placed her so near the throne. 

xviii. Though possessed of a wife endowed 
with such rare gifts of mind and person, 
James was notoriously unfaithful to her ; but, 
as if by way of contrast, he solaced himself 
with mistresses so palpably devoid of beauty 
that Charles the Second professed to believe 
they were enforced upon him by his confessors 
as penance. Of these the most famous was 
Arabella Churchill, the sister of the great 
Duke of Marlborough, and Catherine Sedley, 
Countess of Dorchester. The former, at the 
age of eighteen, became a maid of honour in 
the Duchess's household (A.D. 1685), and 
though De Grammont describes her as '' no- 
thing but skin and bone," speedily enchanted 
the fancy of the fickle James, and became his 
acknowledged mistress. She bore him two 
sons and a daughter; James Fitz-James, 
born in 1670, and illustrious in historj as the 
Duke of Berwick ; Henry Fitz-James, boru 
in 1673, subsequently Grand Prior of France; 
and Henrietta, born in 1670-1, afterwards the 
wife of Lord Waldegrave. 

Catherine Sedley, a woman of singular 

VOL. II. G 



12? JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

mental powers, celebrated in Johnson's fa- 
mous couplet, — 

" Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring, 
And Sedley cursed the charms which pleased a king," 

was the mother of several children by James, 
of whom only one survived her, Catherine 
Darnley, afterwards Duchess of Buckingliam. 
She was well aware of her plainness of per- 
son. " I wonder,'' she said, " for what qua- 
lities James chooses his mistresses. We are 
none of us handsome, and if we have wit, he 
has not enough himself to find it out." Her 
wit often overleaped the bounds of discretion ; 
it was rather surprising than pleasing, for 
s^e knew no restraint in what she said of or 
to anybody. She retained her influence over 
James until his accession to the throne, when 
the tears of Mary of Modena, and the threats 
of his confessors proved too powerful. Having 
been created Countess of Dorchester, and gra- 
tified with a pension of £4,000 per annum, 
she retired to France ; but to the end of his 
life James continued to correspond with her. 
She lived to witness the accession of William 
III., Queen Anne, and George I., and died at 
Bath on the 26th of October, 1717. 



WAR WITH THE DUTCH. 123 

xix. From an enumeration of tlie Duke'v-5 
intrigues we turn with pleasure to record his 
share in the hostilities against the Dutch. 
Eager to increase his military reputation, and 
weary, perhaps, of the inactivity of a court 
life, he appears to have sedulously promoted 
the rupture with Holland, which took place iu 
1664. The nation at large was desirous of 
the war, for it viewed with anger the com- 
mercial monopoly which the Dutch had for 
many years enjoyed, notwithstanding the 
superior prowess of the English at sea ; and 
James, passionately fond of naval affairs, 
prone to encourage commercial enterprise, 
ambitious of distinction, and instigated by re- 
ligious rivalry, neglected nothing which could 
inflame the already excited temper of the 
people. 

XX. War was openly declared against the 
States on the 22nd of February, 1665. The 
command of the fleet destined to operate 
against the Dutch, who had placed in the 
narrow seas an armada of imposing strength, 
was entrusted to the Duke of York, assisted 
by Prince Eupert and the Earl of Sandwich. 
It consisted of 110 men-of-war and frigates, 

G :^ 



124 JAMrS, DUKE OF YORK. 

and 28 fire ships, carrying 4,537 guns, and 
22,206 seamen and soldiers. The largest 
vessels were the Prince, 86 guns, carrying the 
flag of the Earl of Sandwich; the Eoyal 
Charles, 78 guns, hoisting the standard of the 
Duke of York; and the Eoyal James, 78 
guns, bearing the flag of Prince Eupert. The 
Dutch fleet comprised but 103 men-of-war, 
11 fire-ships, and 7 yachts, but these were 
superior in size and strength to the English 
vessels. 

The two great navies came into collision 
ofi" Lowestoft on the 3rd of June ; the Eng- 
lish, through skilful manoeuvring, — for under 
the ostensible commanders served men of ap- 
proved ability and great experience — the 
trained seamen of the Commonwealth — Sir 
William Penn, Sir John Lawson, Sir William 
Berkeley, Sir Christopher Myngs — obtained 
the weather-gage. The battle was desper- 
ately fought, and was, at first, maintained on 
both sides with equal advantage. About 
noon, however, the Earl of Sandwich, leading 
the Blue division, attacked the centre of the 
Dutch fleet with tremendous impetuosity, dis- 
ordering their entire array. At one o'clock 
the flagships of the Hollanders' Admiral, the 



DEFEAT OF THE DUTCH. 125 

gallant Opdam, blew up ; all on board, ex- 
cept five seamen, perishing ; and from the 
moment of this accident the overthrow of the 
Dutch fleet was assured. The struggle ter- 
minated when night came on ; Tromp making 
all sail for the Dutch coast ; their navy having 
endured the most terrible disaster ever known 
at sea. Fourteen ships had been sunk, eigh- 
teen captured, and several burnt or blown up. 
2,500 men had been taken prisoners ; and the 
loss in slain and wounded, computed by some 
authorities at 6,000 men, is estimated by 
others at 8,000. 

xxi. The defeat of the Dutch, however 
complete, might have been converted into an 
annihilation, but for a strange occurrence 
which still remains an historical mystery. 
After the close of the action a council of war 
was held on board the Duke of York's flag- 
ship, when his personal adherents and syco- 
phantic followers, caring less for their master's 
glory than for their own safety, advised him 
to content himself with the undoubted victory 
he had obtained, and to discontinue the pur- 
suit of the enemy. But James, who was 
personally brave ; who throughout the action 
had been in the hottest of the fire, and had 



126 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

seen tlie gallant Falmouth, Boyle, and Mus- 
kerrj killed at his side; disregarded the advice 
of his interested councillors, gave orders to 
press on all sail, and desired to be called as 
soon as they sighted the retreating Hollanders. 
He then retired to his cabin. As the night 
waned, however, Broun cker, the Duke's prin- 
cipal gentleman of the bedchamber and his 
favourite confidant, made his appearance on 
the quarter-deck, with directions to Sir Wil- 
liam Penn, the English admiral, to slacken 
sail. Penn was naturally surprised at an 
order so contrary to the wishes the Duke had 
so recently expressed, but knowing the confi- 
dential position held by Brouncker, he un- 
hesitatingly obeyed it. When the prince arose 
on the following morning, he went upon the 
quarter-deck, and seemed amazed to see the 
sails slackened, and that thereby all hope 
of overtaking the Dutch vessel was lost. " He 
questioned Penn upon it. Penn put it upon 
Brouncker, who said nothing. The Duke 
denied that he had given any such order ; but 
he neither punished Brouncker for carrying 
it, nor Penn for obeying it. He indeed put 
Brouncker out of his service ; and it was said 
that he durst do no more, because he was so 



AN HISTORICAL MYSTERY. 127 

mucli in the King's favour, and the mis- 
tress's/' 

James's own account of the transaction is 
very different : — " That while he was asleep, 
Brouncker brought orders to Sir John Harman 
captain of the ship, to slacken sail ; Sir John 
remonstrated, but obeyed. After some time, 
judging that his falling-back was likely to 
produce confusion, he hoisted the sail as 
before ; so that the Prince, coming soon after 
on the quarter-deck, and finding all things as 
he left them, knew nothing of what had 
passed during his repose — nobody gave him 
the least intimation of it. It was long after, 
that he heard of it by a kind of accident ; 
and he intended to have punished Brouncker 
by martial law ; but just about that time the 
House of Commons took up the question, and 
impeached him, which made it impossible for 
the Duke to punish him otherwise than by 
dismissing him his service. Brouncker, before 
the house, never pretended that he had 
received any orders from the Duke." 

xxii. It is, however, impossible to believe 
in the accuracy of the Duke's account. That 
James, for three years (Brouncker' s dismissal 
did not take place until 1668) should have 



128 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

been ignorant of an occiUTence wlilch 
was the theme of public scandal, and occa- 
sioned an infinity of lampoons, is incredible. 
It was bitterly alluded to by Sir John Denliam, 
in the vigorous satire entitled, '^ Directions to 
a Painter" — 

" And first he orders all the rest to watch, 
And they the foe, while he a nap doth catch. 
Slept not, nor needed — he all day had winkt. 
The Duke in bed, he then first draws his steel. 
Whose virtue makes the misled compass wheel ; 
So, e'er he waked, both fleets were innocent, 
But Brouncker Member is of Parliament." 

The most probable explanation of the 
difficulty seems to be that the Duke, when he 
had retired to his cabin, allovved himself to 
be overcome by the importunities of his fol- 
lowers, and gave the order to slacken sai], of 
which, probably, his cooler judgment re- 
pented. 

xxiii. The Duke of York was now with- 
drawn from the chief command, it being 
alleged that his royal person ought not to be 
exposed to such imminent peril. He did not 
fail, however, to devote his best energies, and 
his administrative abilities, which were con- 
siderable, to the organization of the royal 
navy on a permanent and substantial footing. 



DEATH OF THE DUCHESS. 129 

Otherwise, he mingled but little in public 
a£fairs for several years, except to exert his 
influence, without success, to prevent the dis- 
grace and ruin of his father-in-law, the 
illustrious Clarendon. 

XX iv. On the 31st of March, 1671, it was 
Jameses misfortune to be deprived of his 
admirable Duchess, who, had she lived, would 
have worthily graced a throne, and might by 
her wise councils, have prevented her hus- 
band from losing one. Some months before 
her decease she had embraced the Roman 
Catholic faith, though her conversion was 
not generally known. A rumour of it 
reached her father, the exiled Chancellor, 
and he addressed to her a letter of eloquent 
remonstrance; but "perverts" are not to be 
reclaimed in their first hot frenzy by paternal 
expostulations. They accept the anger of 
those who love them as a portion of their 
probation. Of her brothers, the Earl of 
Rochester, incredulous of her apostacy, bade 
her farewell in her hour of agony; but 
Lord Cornbury, easier of belief and more 
zealous in his Protestantism, refused to visit 
her. 

G 5 



130 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

XXV. In her dyini^ moments slie was at- 
tended by Dr. Blandford, Bishop of Worces- 
ter, who had previously been informed by the 
Duke of the change in her religious principles. 
The wise prelate regretted that she had 
lapsed from her early faith, but was liberal 
enough and tolerant enough to express his 
conviction that as she had acted from con- 
scientious motives, her salvation was still 
possible ; a latitudinarian heterodoxy of 
which most of his contemporaries, and not a 
few of his successors, were incapable. He 
afterwards repaired to her chamber, and 
made her a short Christian exhortation, suitable 
to her then condition. But on his entrance, 
observing Queen Catherine seated by her 
bedside, the modest and humble prelate had 
not the presence of mind enough to begin 
prayers, " which," says Burnet, " probably 
would have driven the queen out of the room ; 
but that not being done, she pretended kind- 
ness, and would not leave her. He happened 
to say, ' I hope you continue still in the 
truth ?' upon which she asked, ' what is truth f 
And then her agony increasing, she repeated 
the word, truths truth^ truth^ often." A few 
minutes afterwards she expired, in the 34:th 



CHARACTER OF THE DUCHESS. 131 

year of her age (March 31st, 1671). Her 
remains were interred in the vault of Mary 
Queen of Scots, in the chapel of Henry the 
VIL, in Westminster Abbey. 

xxvi. Anne Hyde was a very handsome 
personage, and a woman of fine wit: some- 
what stout, but comely, and with a natural 
air of stateiiness and dignity which well be- 
came her princely rank. She possessed the 
rare but valuable faculty of graciousness, and 
irresistibly attracted the respect and admira- 
tion of all who came within the sphere of 
her influence. Her mental powers were far 
above the average, and she had strengthened 
and sharpened them by her study. Like 
most persons of strong passions and sanguine 
dispositions, she hated an enemy as warmly 
as she loved a friend, and her frankness was 
such that she could as little conceal her an- 
tipathies as she could disguise her affections. 
The wits of the court, ill-inclined towards a 
daughter of Clarendon and a parvenu 
Duchess of York, could find little to say in 
depreciation of her, except a gross scandal 
which was fully confuted, and that she was 
" one of the greatest eaters in England ;" 
a censure against which we may fairly balance 



132 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

the acknowledgment of the caustic and cen- 
sorious Burnet, that she was " a very extra- 
ordinary woman.' ^ 

xxvii. The royal widower did not long 
lament the death of Anne Hyde. In the 
autumn of the following year he made pro- 
posals to the Duke of Modena for Ihe hand 
of his daughter, Maria Beatrice Eleonora 
D'Este, then in her fourteenth year. The 
Duke gladly assented to an alliance which 
promised to make his daughter a Queen of 
EnMand, and the marriao;e was solemnized 
by proxy at Modena, the proxy being Henry 
Mordaunt, Earl of Peterborough. Her dowry 
was two hundred thousand pounds, and a 
wealth of charms, both of mind and person, 
which it is doubtful whether her grave hus- 
band could fully appreciate. 

xxviii. The royal couple first met atDover^ 
where the nuptials were celebrated on the 
same day, November 21, 1673."' They ar- 
rived at Whitehall on the 26th, having been 
received on the river by a grand procession of 
the King, his courtiers, and nobility. The 
youthful bride sprang into a sudden popularity 

* The parliament remonstrated with great zeal against the Modenese 
alliance, but Charles told them that their remonstrance was too late, 
the marriage having been already celebrated by proxy. 



THE EADIANT EYES. 133 

in Charles's glittering court, and the poets 
lavished their smoothest verses in praise of 
her remarkable beautj. 

*' Our future hopes all from thy womb arise, 
Our present joy and safety from your eyes ; 
Those radiant eyes whose irresistless flame 
Strikes envy dumb, and keeps sedition tame." 

Those radiant eyes, however, did not tame 
the prejudices of the people, excited by the 
prospect of a Roman Catholic Queen ; nor 
did they " strike dumb " the complaints of 
the ladies of the court of her haughty and 
satirical temper. 

xxix. For the next fifteen years James's 
career is inextricably mixed up with the 
history of England, wliich his bigoted attach- 
ment to the Church of Eome and his absolute 
theories of government so remarkably influ- 
enced. As the Stuart dynasty had begun 
with a James, so it ended with a James, who 
possessed not only a Stuart courage but the 
Stuart obstinacy, while he lacked those charms 
of inanner which had rendered his brother 
popular, and attached to his father the un- 
dying loyalty of the most brilliant nobles of 
England. It is not our province here to relate 



134 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

the events which culminated in Jameses 
deposition from the throne. These have re- 
cently been told by Lord Macaulay, with a 
power and a picturesqueness no meaner pen 
may hope to rival. But we may be permitted 
to note a few of the more interesting inci- 
dents of his personal history. 

XXX. In the negociations with Louis XVI. 
which Charles and his ministers conducted, 
with the view of re-establishing the Roman 
Catholic religion in England, the Duke took 
an important part, his object being to secure 
his succession to his brother's throne, and to 
promote the prosperity of the Church, which 
had obtained so powerful a hold upon his af- 
fections. His unpopularity among his future 
subjects continued to increase, and it broke 
into a flame when fanned by the Popish Plot 
of Titus Gates and his fellow perjurers. The 
correspondence of his secretary, Coleman, 
with the Pope's enemies at Brussels, and other 
foreign papists, contained many extraordinary 
passages, which, when published by order of 
the parliament, not unreasonably increased 
the popular distrust. " We have here," wrote 
the imprudent enthusiast, " a mighty work 



A POPULAE FERMENT. 135 

on our hands, no less than the conversion of 
three kingdoms, and by that perhaps the 
uttor subduing of a pestulent heresy, which 
has a long time domineered over a great part 
of this northern world ; there were never 
such hopes of success, since the days of Queen 
Mary, as now in our days. God has given 
us a prince [the Duke] who is become (may 
I say a miracle ?) zealous of being the author 
and instrument of so glorious a work ; but 
the opposition we are sure to meet with is 
also like to be great, so that it imports us to 
get all the aid and assistance we can." So 
high ran the torrent of popular indignation at 
James's supposed designs, that the king, as a 
measure of precaution, desired him to with- 
draw to the continent, and the Duke, having 
first required a special written order for that 
purpose to clear him from the imputation of 
taking flight through fear or a consciousness of 
guilt — and having obtained Charles's solemn 
declaration of the illegitimacy of the Duke of 
Monmouth, willingly retired to Brussels (A.D. 
1678-9). 

XX xi. The extreme Protestant party were 
not yet satisfied, and, having determined to 
push matters to an extremity, introduced into 



136 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

parliament a bill whicli provided for his total 
exclusion from the throne of England and 
Ireland. On the king's death, the crown was 
to devolve upon the person next in succession 
after the Duke ; all acts of royalty which the 
Duke should afterwards perform, should not 
only be void, but be deemed treason ; if he 
entered any of the English dominions he was 
declared guilty of the same crime ; and all 
who advocated his claims should be punished 
as rebels and traitors. This most vigorous 
and extraordinary measure passed the House 
of Commons by a majority of seventy-nine, 
but was prevented further progress for a time 
by the dissolution of parliament (June, 1679). 
A new parliament assembled in October, but 
to the king's mortification, the prejudices and 
apprehensions of the people were in no wise 
diminished, and the obnoxious bill was again 
brought forward. It once more passed the 
House of Commons by a large majority, but 
in the peers the influence of the court suc- 
ceeded in carrying its rejection (November 

15). 

xxxii. A rapid change which came over the 

spirit of the nation, exhausted by or ashamed of 

its extreme violence, enabled Charles II., 



A SHIPWRECK. 137 

in 1682, to recal his brother, whom he sin- 
cerely loved, to England, and soon afterwards 
to place in his hands the administration of the 
affairs of Scotland. The Duke having elected 
to proceed to his new government by sea, 
met with a disaster which had almost gratified 
the hopes of the bitterest advocates of the 
Exclusion Bill. His ship ran upon a sand- 
bank, and speedily became a total wreck. 
He was, at the time, in bed, and, without 
putting on his clothes, forced his way through 
the cabin window, beneath which a little 
boat waited for him. He was accompanied 
only by the Earl of Warton and the Gentle- 
men of the Bedchamber, who, with drawn 
swords, prevented any of the crew or pas- 
sengers from struggling with the skiff, and 
overloading her. About one hundred and 
thirty persons perished on this melancholy 
occasion, and the Duke's enemies pretended, 
that while so many persons of rank and 
quality lost their lives, his sole anxiety 
arose in reference to the danger of his priests 
and dogs. But on the other hand, it is certain 
that the sailors on board the Duke's ship, 
though conscious of the terrible fate 'which 



138 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

awaited them, as soon as they perceived the 
Admiral in safety, broke into a loud shout of 
joy and satisfaction. 

xxxiii. The Duke's administration of Scot- 
land was marked by extreme rigour, though 
in his demeanour towards the nobility and 
gentry he showed a courtly manner, and 
evinced a strong desire to secure their attach- 
ment. The statement that he was fond of 
watching the tortures to which criminals in 
those days of barbarity were so often subjected, 
scrutinizing their agonies as an anatomist 
might pore over the sufferings of the living 
subject he was dissecting, proceeds from 
quarters which must be regarded with sus- 
picion. It seems evident that there is but one 
well authenticated instance of his having been 
present at a scene so deplorable, and so un- 
worthy of princely countenance.* But he 
was cognizant of the cruelties practised by his 
ministers, and made no effort to check them. 
His reserved and austere temper sympathized 
with measures of repression, and doubtless 
he justified them to himself as necessary to 
the security of the crown, and essential to the 

* Woo^ow, vol. ii. 



ACCESSION TO THE THRONE. 13i) 

prosperity of the Ghurcli. No man so easily 
deceives himself as the religious enthusiast, 
who can always satisfy his conscience by de- 
claring that heaven approves of his actions, 
and that his cruelties or his follies are com- 
mitted for '^ the glory of God/' Bigotry is 
the cloak which conceals, even from the 
bigot's own eyes, a thousand sins, and the 
king will kneel before the altar, side by side 
with an abandoned courtesan, in the happy 
assurance that his zeal for the Church will 
balance satisfactorily against his passion for 
woman. 

xxxiv. On the death of Charles, January 
6, 1684, the Duke of York succeeded to the 
throne without opposition, and even with the 
satisfaction of the people. Against his rigid 
temper and religious fanaticism the nation 
seem disposed to set his inflexible fidelity to 
his word, and his known zeal for the glory 
and honour of England, and though many of 
the leading statesmen of the age apprehended 
a course of arbitrary government which might 
lead to serious disasters, the majority of the 
people looked approvingly upon their new 
monarch. For his part, he seemed resolved 



140 JAMKS, DUKE OF YORK. 

to win and deserve popularity. Summoning 
his privy comicil, he addressed them in a 
forcible and lucid speech, promising to main- 
tain the government, both in Church and 
State, as by law established, "its principles 
being so firm for monarchy, and its members 
showing themselves so good and loyal sub- 
jects/'"' Though he was suspected of having 
adopted arbitrary principles, he knew, he 
said, that the laws of England were sufficient 
to make him as great a monarch as he could 
wish, and he was determined never to exceed 
them. He had heretofore ventured his life in 
defence of the nation, and he was still pre- 
pared to go as far as any man in maintaining 
all its just rights and liberties. 

XXXV. These declarations were received 
with the utmost satisfaction from the confi- 
dence that was generally reposed in James's 
sincerity. "We have now,'' it is said, " the 
word of a king, and a word never yet broken." 
Addresses of congratulation poured in from 
every considerable town, and an outburst of 
loyalty spread suddenly from the wilds of 
Scotland to the bare bleak hills of Cornwall. | 

* Evelyn's Memoirs. f Eachard. 



FAVOURABLE PROSPECTS. 141 

It is probable, too, that James, at tbis time, 
was really sincere in bis professions — tbat 
be did not meditate tbe subversion of tbe 
established religion, but tbe removal of the 
penalties and restrictions which oppressed so 
heavily all classes of Nonconformists, the 
Quaker as well as Papist. Such was assuredly 
the belief of men, who, like William Penn, 
were admitted into his confidence, and to 
whom he solemnly declared that, though a 
Catholic himself, his only dcvsire was to secure 
for all his subjects the right of freedom of 
opinion, — liberty of conscience. 

xxxvi. The public, however, were stirred 
into alarm and apprehension when, on the 
following Sunday, the King openly attended 
mass in the Queen's Chapel, St. James's, sur- 
rounded by all the ensigns of his regal state, 
and the " pomp and circumstance'' which the 
Eomish Church so well knows how to dis- 
play. It is said that when the Protestant 
Duke of Norfolk, who bore the Sword of State, 
reached the chapel door, he stopped short, and 
permitted the procession to pass on without 
him. ''My lord," said the king, reproach- 
fully, " your father would have gone further.'* 



142 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

" Your majesty's father,*' retorted the Duke, 
"would not have gone so far." As his predi- 
lection for the Papal Church, and the arbitrary 
character of his government, became more 
fully developed, he met with other instances of 
resolute opposition. When the Pope's Nun- 
cio paid a public visit to the king at Windsor, 
the Duke of Somerset, whose duty it was to 
attend the reception of the ambassadors, de- 
clined to be present. " It was," he said, '' in 
opposition to the laws." " Are you not 
aware," exclaimed the monarch, "that T am 
above the law?" Your majesty," said the 
Duke, '' may be above the law, but I am sure 
that I am not." Even from the ambassador 
of Spain his unwise and excessive zeal drew a 
pointed reproof. Eonquillo warned him that 
the meddling of the priests in court and state 
affairs might involve him in serious difficulties. 
" But is it not the custom," said James, ''for 
the King of Spain to consult his confessors?" 
" Yes," replied the astute ambassador, " and 
it is for that very reason our affairs succeed so 
ill." Bishop Compton (of Oxford), who had 
commenced life as a cornet in the Horse 
Guards, remonstrating somewhat freely on the 



CATHERINE SEDLEY. 143 

dangerous policy adopted by the sovereign, 
James sarcastically remarked, " You talk 
more like a soldier than a bishop.'^ "Your 
majesty," exclaimed the prelate, ''does mean 
honour in reminding me that I formerly drew 
my sword in defence of the constitution: I 
shall assuredly do so again if I live to see the 
necessitv!'^ 

xxxvii. Next to intriguing with his priests, 
and commercing with his favorite mistress, the 
lively and witty Catherine Sedley, whom he had 
created Countess of Dorchester, — James most 
affected the pastime of the chase, and hunted 
regularly once or twice a week in the neigh- 
bourhood of Putney and Barnes, Wimbledon 
and Eichmond. The influence of his wife and 
the reprimands of his confessors induced him 
for a time to dismiss the countess from his 
court, and banish her to Ireland, with a 
pension, but she soon returned to London and 
renewed her intimacy with him. 

xxxviii. The dark side of Jameses character 
was remarkably prominent in his treatment of 
Monmouth and Monmouth's misguided adhe- 
rents. Some of his apologists, indeed, have at- 
tempted to clear him of any participation in the 



144 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

odious cruelties of Jeffreys ; but the man whom 
he made a peer and elevated to the highest ju- 
dicial seat in England, declared, when dying 
in the Tower, that whatever he did, he did by 
express orders, and " I have this farther,'* he 
exclaimed, '' to say for myself, that I was not 
half bloody enough for him that sent me 
thither." Burnet asserts that he not only was 
acquainted with the horrors practised in the 
West, but had an account of them forwarded 
to him daily. The selection which he made 
of instruments to carry out his intentions is a 
sufficient condemnation. The man who chose 
Jeffreys as his judge and Kirkeas that judge's 
military second was well aware of their char- 
acter ; was well aware that they were not the 
men to wipe out the stain of revolt in rose 
water. " It was not possible to find in the 
whole kingdom two men more devoid of re- 
ligion, honour, and humanity ; they were two 
cruel, merciless tigers that delighted in 
blood."'" . And so the gibbets groaned with 
victims, and the aged and innocent were flung 
into the cruel flames, while James listened to 
the dark counsels of crafty priests, and ad- 

* Eapin, vol. ii. 



ARBITRARY PROJECTS. 145 

vanced step by step towards an abyss of 
destruction, a.d. 1685. 

xxxix. In the dangerous career upon which 
he had entered, James was impetuously carried 
forward by those very qualities which mostly 
deserve our respect. He was undoubtedly 
sincere in his attachment to what he believed 
to be the only true church ; he was a man of 
singular personal courage; his attention to 
business was untiring, and his tenacity of 
purpose almost amounted to obstinacy. Thus, 
having resolved to establish the Eomish 
Church in a position of a supremacy, he would 
not suffer himself to be deterred by the fears 
of his counsellors or the opposition of his sub- 
jects. He pursued his design with all the 
energy of a fanatic, despising even the warn- 
ings of the Pope, whose sagacity foresaw the 
probable results of his ill-judged enthusiasm. 
His efforts were well seconded by the priests 
whom he encouraged. A curious paper in the 
handwriting of Archbishop Sancroft relates 
some of their manoeuvres : — 

'' Audacious attempts of Popish seducers in 
London in K. James's reign. 

" Books and pamphlets prejudicial to the 

VOL. II. H 



146 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

Church are sold in every state, cried by 
hawkers about the streets, or commonly as 
Gazets, thrown or brought into houses, or 
sent by Penny-Post bundles ; such as ' The 
Touchstone of the Reformed Gospel,' ' The 
Translation of the Masse/ ' The Papist Misre- 
presented,' etc. 

'^ Papists bring papers into coffee houses, 
and plead the cause out of them, as out of so 
many briefs. 

" Papists, both of the Layetie and of the 
Clergy, offer arguments to the passengers in 
Hackney coaches to Windsor and other 
places."* 

xl. James's first great measure towards the 
accomplishment of his designs was his suspen- 
sion of the penal laws and tests — which fell so 
heavily on Papists and Nonconformists — by 
his own authoritv, and without the consent of 
Parliament. In this arbitrary act he was 
justified by the declaration of all the Judges 
of England, save one, that these laws were 
powers committed to the king for the execu- 
tion of justice, but not to bind his authority. 



* Tanner MSS. ; the entire paper is too long for insertion, but full 
of interest. 



THE HIGH COMMISSION. 147 

or prevent his dispensing with them. Not the 
less was the act impolitic and unconstitutional, 
and the heart of the English people glowed 
with indignation when, by virtue of this dis- 
pensing power, papists were appointed to 
offices of importance, and five Roman Catholic 
lords were admitted to the Privy Council. 
This indignation flamed the more fiercely 
when the infatuated king revived the hateful 
Court of High Commission, and appointed to 
its presidency the sanguinary Jeifreys. When 
they found this court empowered to reform all 
abuses and offences ; to cite before them 
ecclesiastical persons of every rank, and 
censure, suspend, or deprive them without 
appeal ; and further, to alter the statutes of 
the universities, and all other corporations, 
civil and religious ; it is no marvel that good 
men and true, sincere patriots, and lovers of 
freedom, should stand aghast at the unlimited 
tyranny to which James was evidently has- 
tening. Well might Evelyn exclaim : — " So 
furiously do the Jesuits drive, and even 
compel princes to violent courses, and de- 
struction of an excellent government in 

H 2 



148 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

Cliiircli and State."'"' The Declaration of 
Indulgence was published on the 4th of April, 
1687. By suspending the various oaths and 
tests which shut out the Nonconformist from 
service in the State, James flattered himself 
that he should win the support of the Dis- 
senters, while throwing open all offices of 
trust to Romanists. But, to their honour, it 
must be stated that they waived all personal 
considerations in their uncompromising hos- 
tility to the ''religion of Anti-Christ,'' and 
joined the Church of England in its resistance 
to Eomanism. The king himself discovered 
his error when too late, and acknowledged 
that his ''treacherous counsellors" had in- 
spired him to a course of conduct calculated 
" to set those against him who might other- 
wise have been his friends, and to court those 
who they were sure never would.''! 

xli. To strike terror into the hearts of those 
whom he considered as his rebellious subjects 
James encamped his army on Hounslow 
Heath, and proceeded rapidly in the headlong 
course which as surely fascinated him towards 
his ruin, as the gaze from a giddy precipice 

* Evelyn's Memoirs. f Clarke's Life of James II. 



TEIAL OF THE SEVEN BISHOPS. 149 

tempts the charmed spectator to leap into the 
abyss beneath. Archbishop Bancroft, and six 
of the ablest prelates of the Church of Eng- 
land — Ken, of Bath and Wells ; Lloyd, of St. 
Asaph ; White, of Peterborough ; Turner, of 
Ely ; Trelawney, of Bristol ; and Lake, of 
Chichester — having refused to sanctiofi the 
publication and distribution in the churches 
of their respective dioceses of the royal De- 
claration of Indulgence, were committed to 
the Tower, and the Attorney and Solicitor- 
Generals ordered to prosecute them. 

xlii. The " Trial of the Seven Bishops'' is 
one of the most remarkable events in our 
English annals, but it has been pourtrayed by 
so many able pens, that we need not here at- 
tempt another version. Of more interest to 
us as more intimately connected with James's 
personal history, is the birth of a Prince of 
Wales — an event which seemed to secure the 
succession of the Stuart dynasty, but more 
than any other promoted its downfall. 

xliii. The queen was delivered of a son at St. 
James's, on the 10th of June, 1688. At her 
accouchement no less than forty-two persons 
of rank were present, including eighteen privy 



150 



JAMES, DUKE OF YORK, 



counsellors, four peers, and twenty ladies ; 
and yet so great was the hatred which ani- 
mated his Protestant subjects against the 
bigot king, so universal was the belief that 
influence which guided him and his own 
obstinate fanaticism would deem any means 
justifiable to secure his desired end, that the 
cry arose throughout England, " He has im- 
posed upon us a surreptitious child ! This is 
no offspring of the Queen's !" And the ad- 
vocates of this opinion put forward numerous 
plausible arguments : — They pointed out that 
previous to her delivery the queen would allow 
neither the Princess Anne, nor any Protestant 
lady to satisfy herself of her pregnancy ; that 
for seven years she had borne no child ; that 
the accouchement was not only remarkably 
sudden, but occurred on a Sunday when all 
the Protestant court ladies were at Divine 
service ; that neither the Princess Anne, nor 
the Archbishop of Canterbury, nor the Am- 
bassador of the States was present at the birth ; 
that during her labour, though the weather 
was very warm, and the queen's bedchamber 
heated by the crowd of persons around her, a 
warming pan was introduced into the bed ; 



SUSPICIONS. 151 

and finally that the queen for six or seven 
years had been in a wretched state of health, 
and her death had been constantly antici- 
pated."' At first James treated the rumours 
which reached his ears with the contempt they 
deserved, but finding that the "Warming- 
Pan Story '' was growing into strength and 
consistency, he caused the depositions to be 
taken of the great officers of State, and other 
personages, of whom twenty-four were Pro- 
testants, who had been witnesses of the birth 
of the Prince of Wales, and ordered their 
publication. But so potent a life has calumny 
that the king's precaution had no visible effect, 
and the supposed spuriousness of his birth 
was one of the great obstacles which beset his 
son, when, at a later period, he strove for the 
English crown. 

xliv. Notwithstanding the openly expressed 
opinions of a majority of his subjects, the 
King proceeded to celebrate the birth of his son 
with the most splendid pomp. He lavished 
presents upon his ministers, and rewards 
upon his priests, to whose prayers he attributed 



* Burnet, History of My Own Time. Bishop Kennet's Complete 
History. 



152 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

the realisation of hisliopes. When the Queen's 
pregnancy was first apparent, he had caused 
a Form of Thanksgiving to be drawn up ; not 
as is usual by the Archbishop, but by three 
more courtly prelates: Spratt, Bishop of 
Eochester, White, of Peterborough, and 
Crewe, of Durham, — a circumstance wliich 
was not forgotten in the lampoons of the 
time: 

" Two Toms and a Nat 

In Council sat, 
To rig out a Thanksg-iving, 

And made a prayer 

For a thing in the air, 
That's neither dead nor living." 

But though a Thanksgiving was issued, the 
people refused to join in it ;* and now, when a 
son was born in the purple, when a Heir to 
the Throne was at last vouchsafed, they exhi- 
bited no signs of gratitude, no signs of re- 
joicing. It was different with the French 
Court. Louis xiv. was well-pleased with an 

* The Earl of Clarendon, James's hrother-in-law, records in hia 
Diary, tinder the date of January 15th : — " In the morning I went to 
St James's Church ; this is the Thanksgiving Day appointed for the 
Queen's being with child; there were not above two or three in the 
church who brought the Form of Prayer with them." As early as the 
year 1682, when the Queen was pregnant, a similar calumny to that 
alluded to in the text, was spread abroad ; but as the issue proved to 
be a princess, faction allowed it to pass into oblivion. 



CONGRATULATIONS FROM ABROAD. 153 

event which seemed to place an insuperable 
barrier between the Prince of Orange and the 
Crown of England ; and the English ambas- 
sador wrote to the Secretary of State in almost 
delirious phrases : "I found so general a joy 
in all people there, as I never yet saw upon 
any occasion. His Most Christian Majesty, 
at coming from Council to go to Mass, called 
me to him, and, with a satisfaction in his face 
not to be expressed, told me that, next to the 
King, my master, no man had a greater joy 
than he for the news of a Prince being born. 
And the Duke de la Tremouille and Pochefou- 
cault, with Monsieur de Croissy, who were at 
his waking, at which time the news was 
brought him by the latter, told me they never 
saw any man so joyful.'^ 

xlv. Something more was wanting than the 
congratulations of foreign princes to assure to 
the princely babe his succession to his father's 
crown ; and in that political sagacity and 
prudent statesmanship which alone could 
guide him safely through the storms he 
had conjured up the King was unfortunately 
deficient. Scarcely six months had passed 
when the shadows of coming events warned 

H 5 



154 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

liim to prepare for the escape, at any oppor- 
tune moment, of his Queen and her babe. 
The Prince of Orange had landed with a 
considerable army, and was making a trium- 
phal progress through the western counties. 
Traitors were in his court, and sat at his 
council-board, and distrust, suspicion, and 
hatred watched him on every side. He was 
no longer the James who had faced in serene 
courage the thunder of the Dutch cannon. 
Years, pleasure, and the enjoyment of power 
had enervated him, and, instead of advancing 
to meet the invader, he thought only of con- 
cessions to an angry people who would not 
accept them, and of flight to some friendly 
court where he might count his beads in 
peace. But first he provided for the safety 
of his wife and son. It happened, by a 
fortunate chance, that there was then lying 
off Gravesend a yacht appointed to convey 
to France the Count de Lauzun, the brilliant 
favourite of Louis XIV. In him the king 
found a prompt and trusty agent. He sent 
for him to Whitehall on the evening of the 
6th of December, and requested him to make 
the necessary preparations. A few hours 



THE queen's escape. 155 

afterwards, when the king had retired to bed, 
Lauzun returned and aroused him, with a 
companion, one Monsieur de St. Victor. 
Thej informed him that everything was 
ready, if the Queen would make the attempt. 
James repaired to her chamber and awoke 
her ; but the tender woman who, despite her 
haughtiness, was an' admirable wife, no 
sooner understood the task he sought to enjoin 
upon her, than she flung herself at his feet, 
and earnestly implored his permission to stay 
by his side, and share in his perils. But 
James was immoveable, and conducted by 
Lauzun, the Queen and her son quitted 
Whitehall, under the shelter of the friendly 
night ; proceeded to Gravesend, embarked on 
board the yacht, and reached France in 
safety.''' 

xlvi. The King's position was now surrounded 
by perils. Whom was he to trust, when his 
friends had deserted him — and not only his 
friends, but his daughter, Anne ? Her defec- 
tion, indeed, was the severest blow he had 
received. He burst into tears — " Good God,'' 
he exclaimed, " am I then deserted by my 
own children ? Oh, if my enemies only, 

* Dalrymple's Memoirs. Bishop Kennet's Complete History. 



156 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

had curst me, I could have borne it !'' "It 
was an inexpressible grief," he wrote, at a 
later period, " to see those he had favoured, 
cherished, and exalted — nay, his own children, 
rise thus in opposition against him. This 
was wnat required a more than natural force 
to support ; those strokes had been less 
sensible, had they come from hands less dear 
to him : but beino- delivered over to all the 
contradictions that malice or ingratitude could 
throw in his way, he saw no hopes of 
redress/'* 

xlvii. Without friends, without councillors, 
without an army, James could determine upon 
no other course than to quit the kingdom 
with as much secresy as possible. He 
does not seem to have understood that 
no steps he could take would be more 
eagerly welcomed by the Prince of Orange 
and his adherents. It removed a powerful 
rival from the Deliverer's path. James, a 
king de facto ^ was an obstacle which his son- 
in-law knew not how to get rid of. James, 
only king dejure^ self-exiled, and a fugitive, 
could offer no successful opposition. But, 
alarmed for his personal safety, he hurriedly 

♦ James's Memoirs, in Clarke's History of James II. 



THE KING FLIES. 157 

made the necessary preparations for his flight, 
and on the night previous to that which he had 
fixed for the attempt, confided his secret to 
the Duke of Northumberland, commanding 
him on his allegiance not to betray it. About 
three o'clock on the dim gusty morning of 
the 11th of December, accompanied only by 
Sir Edward Hales and two servants, he left 
Whitehall by a private passage which led to 
the river side, and entered a small boat 
rowed by two pair of sculls. As he dropped 
down the river, he drew from under his cloak 
the Great Seat of England, and flung it into 
the waters. What mysterious importance he 
attached to this emblem of sovereign power 
is uncertain, but his precaution did not pre- 
vent it from falling into the hands of his 
rival — a fisherman having caught it in his 
net, and restored it to the government. 

xlviii. Meanwhile, at the hour when the king 
usually rose, the anti-chamber was crowded 
with courtiers and priests, and the usual 
attendants of his levees. The door of his 
bedchamber was suddenly thrown wide, and 
the Duke of Northumberland, a natural son 
of Charles the Second, announced to the 



158 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

astonished throng that the king had fled. 
The news soon reached the ears of the Prince 
of Orange, whose only anxiety was to facili- 
tate, if possible, the king's escape ; and 
whose disappointment was extreme when, a 
few hours later, he learned that he had been 
arrested, and was on his way back to London, 
xlix. King James's skiff had descended the 
river in safety, but when off Shellness Point, 
on the Isle cf Sheppey, was boarded by a boat 
containing thirty-six armed men, who, igno- 
rant of the quality of their prisoner, conveyed 
him ashore, and robbed him of- his watch and 
money. They treated him so roughly, and 
the king resented the treatment so bitterly, 
that when in 1692 he issued a general am- 
nesty, he exempted from it the rude fishermen 
of Sheemess, in company with such august 
traitors as Danby and Churchill. They then 
removed him to Faversham, from whence he 
wrote a letter in his own hand, " addressed 
to no particular person, but imploring the 
aid of all good Englishmen.'^'"' Meanwhile, 
his person had been recognised by one of the 
crowd that pressed upon him, who fell at his 

* Macaulay. 



RETURN TO LONDON. 159 

feet, solicited him to forgive the irreverent 
treatment he had experienced, and constrained 
his fellows to return the jewels and gold thej 
had taken from him. The king, however, 
would only receive the jewels, and caused the 
four hundred guineas he had with him to be 
distributed among the populace. 

1. A detachment of troops having arrived at 
Faversham, he was set at liberty, and com- 
menced his return to London. A despatch from 
the Prince of Orange desired him to halt at 
Eochester, but reached him too late, and James 
entered the metropolis amid the most enthu- 
siastic display of loyalty, the tidings of his 
distress having moved the excitable feelings 
of the multitude.*"' He went through the city 
on Sunday, December 16, about four in the 
afternoon, preceded by a great many gentle- 
men bareheaded, and followed by a numerous 
company with loud huzzas.| The evening 
concluded with ringing of bells and lighting 
of bonfires, — signs of popular rejoicing which 
much discomfited the Prince of Orange, who 
was then lying at Windsor, and " highly sur- 



* Clarke's James the Second. 
t Ellis's Original letters- 



160 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. ^i 

T 

prised" the king himself. '^ It is not to be 
imagined," he writes, * '' what acclamations > 
were made, and what joy the people ex- 
pressed at his Majesty's return: such bonfires, 
ringing of bells, and all imaginable marks of 
love and esteem, as made it look like a day of 
triumph and humiliation; and this, so universal 
among all ranks of people, that the king, nor 
none that were with him, had ever seen the 
like before, the same crowds of people and 
crys of joy accompanying him to Whitehall, 
and even to his bedchamber door itself." 

li. But James's presence in London compli- 
cated the ^' situation" to such an extent, that 
William's advisers determined him to force to 
a second attempt at escape by alarming him 
with fears for his personal safety. The Dutch 
guards were posted as sentries round White- 
hall. Few persons of distinction attended his 
levees, and when his mistrust, by these and 
other manoeuvres, had been thoroughly 
aroused. Lords Halifax, Delamere, and 
Shrewsbury disturbed him in his bed at mid- 
night, and delivered a warrant which required 
him to leave the Palace before ten o'clock the 

* The Stuart Papers. 



QUITS WHITEHALL. 161 

next morning, and withdraw to Ham, near 
Eichmond, the mansion of the Duchess of 
Lauderdale. All that was kingly in James's 
nature had been destroyed by the excesses of 
his manhood, and his superstitious subser- 
vience to the Eomish priests. He obeyed the 
mandate, like a cowed and trembling crimi- 
nal, only imploring permission to retire to 
Eochester instead of Ham.'*^' His enemies 
were equally anxious with himself that he 
should take up his abode at some point near 
the sea shore convenient for his escape to 
France, and readily accorded him the required 
permission. Attended by about a hundred of 
the Dutch guards, he . quitted Whitehall on 
the 18th of December. They left him at full 
liberty, and, it is said, showed him more re- 
spect than he had received from his own 
soldiers. Many among them were papists, so 
that when the king went to mass, they accom- 
panied him, and behaved very reverently. 
And when he asked them " how they could 
serve in an expedition designed to destroy 
their own religion?" one of them replied, 
" My soul is God's, but my sword the Prince 

* Macaulay. 



162 JAMES, DUKE OP^ YORK. 

of Orange's:" — an answer whose logic seems 
to us very indifferent, but which so delighted 
James that he repeated it to all who came 
about him.* 

xlii. The king remained at Rochester, at Sir 
Eichard Head's house, until the 23rd of De- 
cember, the day on which he had resolved to 
make a second attempt at escape. His con- 
fidants and companions were the Duke of Ber- 
wick, his natural son, — Biddulph, a gentle- 
man of the bedchamber, — and a Monsieur 
I'Abadie, a page of the backstairs. On the 
night of the 23rd, as soon as his attendants 
were dismissed, the king rose from his bed, 
attired himself in hot haste, and quitting the 
house by a back door which opened near the 
Med way, embarked on board the boat which 
was waiting for him. At midnight they 
dropped down the river to a tender anchored 
without the fort at Sheerness, but owing to a 
strong wind blowing in shore, did not reach 
it until six in the morning. The weather 
still continued hostile, and the fugitives,unable 
to reach Calais, made for the port of Boulogne, 
and finally gained Ambleteuse in safety, early 

* Eachaxd's History of the Revolution. 



A FAREWELL. 163 

Qn the 25th December, 1688. James then 
proceeded to Versailles, where Louis the 14th 
received him with a splendid courtesy, 
though his courtiers were less respectful in 
their reception of the bigot who had so easily 
given up his magnificent inheritance. '' See,*^ 
cried the Archbishop of Rheims, '-'• the man 
who has lost three kingdoms for an old mass !'' 
His late subjects were equally liberal of sar- 
casms against the King who had abandoned 
them. Numerous lampoons were flung about 
upon the stormy tide of public opinion, one of 
which has floated down to the present age as 
better worth preservation than many of its 
contemporaries. It is entitled " A Farewell,^' 
and among the verses two or three may be 
quoted on account of their decorousness : 

" Farewell Petre, farewell Cross ; 
Farewell Chester, farewell ass ; 
Farewell Peterborough, farewell tool ; 
Farewell Sunderland, farewell fool 1 

" Farewell Brent, farewell villain ; 
Farewell Wright, worse than Tressilian ; 
Farewell Chancellor, farewell mace ; 
Farewell Prince, farewell race ! 

" Farewell Queen, and farewell passion ; 
Farewell King, and farewell nation ; 
Farewell Priests, pnd farewell Pope ; 
Farewell ! — all deserve a rope !" * 

* Jesse's Memoirs of the Courts of England, temp. Stuarts. 



164 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

liii. A striking picture of the changes 
wrought bj the King's pusillanimous flight is 
afforded in a letter from Father Con — " a 
crafty man, who knew news well, and loved 
money*" — to the Provincial of the Jesuit's 
College at Rome.f Translated, it runs as 
follows : — 

'' London, December 10, 1688. 

" Honour' d Father William, 

'' There is now an end of all the 
pleasing hopes of seeing our holy religion 
make a progress in this country. The King 
and Queen are fled, their adherents are left to 
themselves, and a new Prince, with a foreign 
army, has got possession without the least 
resistance. It is a thing unseen, unheard of, 
unrecorded in history, that a king in peaceful 
possession of his realm, with an army of 
30,000 fighting men, and 40 ships of war, 
should quit his kingdom without firing a 
pistol. The foreigners themselves who have 
got possession are astonished at their own. 
success, and laugh at the English for their 
cowardice and disloyalty to their prince. It 
looks as if heaven and earth had conspired 

* Burnet. 

t Earl of Clarendon's Diary, Vol. ii., quoted from tlie Tanner 
MSS., Vol. xxviii., f. 278. (Brit. Museum). 



A Jesuit's lettee. 165 

against us. But this is not all ; the great 
evil comes from ourselves; our own impru- 
dence, avarice, and ambition have brought 
all this upon us. The good king has made 
use of fools, knaves, and blockheads ; and 
the great minister that jou sent hither has 
contributed also his share.* Instead of a 
moderate, discreet and sagacious minister, 
you sent a mere boy, a fine showy fop to 
make love to the ladies ; 

Egregiam vero laudem, et spolia ampla tulistis. 

But enough on this head, my dear friend ; 
the whole affair is over. I am only sorry 
that I made one among so many madmen, 
who were incapable of either directing or 
governing. I now return, as I can, with the 
little family [of monks and Jesuits] to a land 
of christians: this unhappy voyage costs me 
dear : but there is no help for it. The pros- 
pect was fair, if the business had been in the 
hands of men of sense ; but, to our disgrace, 
the helm was held by rogues. I have already 



* The Pope's Nuncio, Cotint d' Adda. This unfavourable opinion 
of him probably proceeded from his opposition to the violent designs 
of the king and the Jesuits, whose disastrous issue he clearly fore- 



166 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

paid the compliments of the new year to our 
patrons ; and I now do the same to you and 
to all friends. If God grants me a safe pas- 
sage beyond sea, you shall hear from me. 
" I remain as usual. 
''P.S. — A Scotch gentleman named Salton 
[Fletcher of Saltown?] who is arrived here 
from P.D.O. [the Pere D' Orleans], sends his 
respects to you, and Signore Tomas. The 
confusion here is great nor is it known what 
is likely to be the event, much less what it 
will be : but for us there is neither faith nor 
hope left. We are totally put to the rout 
this time, and the Fathers of our Holy 
Company have contributed their part towards 
this destruction. All the rest. Bishops, Con- 
fessors, Friars and Monks, have acted with 
little prudence." 

THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 

i. Louis the 14th was ill-disposed to see 
his most persistent opponent, William the 3rd, 
tranquilly seated on the throne of England, 
and free to devote all the resources of his new 
kingdom to the prosecution of his struggle 



LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH. 167 

against the encroachments of France. He 
was, therefore, very willing to assist the fugi- 
tive James in any feasible attempt to recover 
his lost crown. If unsuccessful, the attempt 
would nevertheless be a diversion,which would 
draw off William's attention from his Conti- 
nental schemes. Otherwise, the king's con- 
duct was not calculated to produce any very 
favourable impression on his mind. At the 
Castle of St. Germain's, which Louis had 
placed at his disposal, he passed his time in 
theological disputations with his confessors, 
and in addressing letters to his adherents in the 
three kingdoms which were redolent with the 
haughtiness of a conqueror. A gleam of 
kingly spirit was visible, however, in his 
answer to Louis, when that monarch offered 
him an army of 15,000 men : — " No ; I will 
succeed by the assistance of my subjects, or 
perish in the attempt." And roused to ac- 
tion by the counsels of his Queen, and the 
gallant exhortations of the Dukes of Berwick 
and De Lauzun, he resolved upon trusting 
himself to the loyalty of the Irish, and com- 
mencing in Ireland his enterprise for the re- 
covery of the triple crown. 



168 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

ii. In Ireland tlie command of the royal 
troops was entrusted to the gallant Tyrconnel, 
who urgently entreated James for reinforce- 
ments, and pointed out the beneficial effect 
his presence in that kingdom would be sure to 
produce, — confirming the wavering, encoura- 
ging the despondent, and inspiring the loyal. 
James accordingly embarked at Brest, on the | 
7th of March, 1689/"' His forces consisted I 
of about 1,200 British volunteers, and a goodly 
number of experienced French oflScers. He 
was escorted by a fleet of fourteen ships of the * 
line, seven frigates, and three fire-ships. In 
his suite went his sons, the Duke of Berwick, 
and Henry Fitz James, the Grand Prior ; the 
Duke of Powis ; the Earls of Dover, Melfort, 
Abercorn, and Seaforth ; the Lords Henry 
and Thomas Howard ; Lords Drummond, 
Buchan, and Hunsdon ; the late Lord Chief 
Justice Herbert; the Bishops of Chester and 
Galway ; the Marquis d'Estrades ; Counts 
Anthony and John Hamilton ; Colonels Sars- 
field. Porter, Luttrel, Clifford, and many 
others of approved gallantry, experience, or 
skill. He was provided by Louis — who did 

* Clarke's James the Second. Burnet. Lingard. 



LANDS IN IRELAND. 169 

all tilings as became a great monarch — with, 
money, plate, superb equipages, and stores of 
household necessaries; and at parting was 
presented with his own cuirass, accompanied 
by the graceful farewell : " The best thing I 
can wish you is that I may never see you 
again/' 

iii. The expedition was detained at Brest by 
contrary winds until the 17th of the month, 
when it set sail, and arrived off Kinsale on 
the 22nd. James was received on his disem- 
barcation with enthusiastic profusions of 
loyalty, and found that the able and energetic 
Tyrconnel had assembled for his support an 
army of 30,000 foot and 8,000 horse. 

iv. In the latter end of March the king made 
his public entry into Dublin amidst the raptur- 
ous welcomes of its inhabitants. At the Castle- 
gate he was met by a procession of priests and 
bishops in their pontifical robes, carrying the 
Host, and he paid it in public the customary 
adoration. He dismissed from the Council 
those members whom he suspected of favour- 
ing the Protestant interest, and replaced them 
by his principal adherents. Tyrconnel he 
elevated to a dukedom, and five separate pro- 

VOL. II. I 



170 JAMES, DUKE OF YOEK. 

clamations denounced the partisans of William 
the 3rd, acknowledged the loyalty of the 
Eoman Catholics, invited his subjects to 
supply the army with provisions, prohibited 
the soldiers from taking anything without 
payment, and summoned a parliament to meet 
at Dublin on the 7th of May. 

V. James's adherents in England pressed him 
to bring over his army without delay, that, 
reinforced by the English royalists, it might 
at once overthrow William's government ; but 
from this politic movement, which, probably, 
would have recovered his crown, he was dis- 
.suaded by his Irish council. Accordingly he 
entered upon an Irish campaign by attacking 
and capturing Coleraine, and investing Kil- 
more. He then returned to meet his parlia- 
ment at Dublin, while the French General 
Eosene commenced his siege of Londonderry, 
one of the protestant strongholds. He was 
opposed by an heroic resistance. Their 
governor, Colonel Lundy, had deserted them, 
but directed and inspired by a courageous 
Protestant clergyman, George Walker, the 
inhabitants endured without murmuring the 
extremities of famine, harassed the besiegers 
by constant sallies, and obstinately repulsed 



A FRENCH VICTORY. 171 

every attack which was levelled against their 
weak points. They were relieved at length 
by a reinforcement under General Kirke, and 
James's army precipitately abandoned the 
siege after having lost about 9,000 men. 

vi. His party met with another severe discour- 
agement in Enniskillen, — Lord Montcashel, 
with 6,000 Irish Papists, having been defeated 
by an inferior force, at a place called Newton 
Butler. On the other hand, the French fleet, 
under Chateau Renaud, obtained a slight ad- 
vantage over Admiral Herbert, in Bantry 
Bay (May 1st). The French were far superior 
in number, and Herbert's ships were particu- 
larly ill-manned. Elated with a maritime 
success to which the French were little accus- 
tomed, Count de Vaux, the French Ambas- 
sador at Dublin, assured the King that the 
English had been totally defeated. "It is, 
then, the first time," answered James, who 
at that moment forgot the deposed monarch 
in the Englishman, and overlooked the gain 
to his cause in mortification at the shame 
which had befallen his country. Count De 
Vaux, however, had only this to boast of, 
that with 26 ships opposed to 18 he had not 

I 2 



172 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK, 

lost a vessel. By many tlie English Admiral 
was blamed for attacking so superior a force, 
but William remarked that '' such actions 
were necessary at the beginning of a war, 
though they would be rash in the course of it,*' 
and showed the sincerity of his approval by 
creating him Earl of Torrington. 

vii. Towards the autumn of 1689 James's 
cause fell into the " sere and yellow leaf," and 
the disputes of his followers, the disasters 
which befel his troops, the misery which he saw 
on every side, affected him so deeply, that he 
yielded to the utmost dismay, and became the 
victim of a tormenting despondency. He 
felt himself rebuked and overmastered by 
William's superior genius. His chief anxiety 
was for his own personal safety, and he 
thought more of effecting his escape from 
Ireland than of recovering his lost crown. 
Very different was the spirit in which William 
defended the throne he had won. Landing 
at Carrickfergus on the 14th of June, 1690, 
he immediately proceeded to Belfast, where 
he was met by his generalissimo, the veteran 
Schomberg. Pressing forward to Loughbril- 
land, he there reviewed his army, which 
numbered 35,000 effective soldiers, well ap- 



KING WILLIAM S PROGRESS. 173 

pointed, and Ml of confidence in their leader. 
Next lie marched to Dundalk, and afterwards 
to Ardagh, which the enemy abandoned as he 
approached. Still moving forward with all 
his wonted vigour, he reached the Bojne, 
on whose opposite bank was posted the 
Eojalist army. 

viii. Such was the rapidity of the Deliverer's 
movements, and so feebly was managed 
James's military administration, that William 
had been six days in Ireland before his rival 
learned that he had even landed. James 
then committed Dublin to the custody of Lut- 
trel and a body of Irish militia, and with a 
reinforcement of 6,000 foot, which had re- 
cently arrived from France, joined the main 
body of his forces, posted strongly on the 
river Boyne. There, in a sudden access of 
courage and decision, he resolved to give 
battle to the English, contrary to the advice 
of his most experienced officers, who would 
have had him retire to the Shannon, and 
await the result of the operations of the 
powerful fleet that Louis was about to despatch 
to his assistance. But with a deep river 
between him and his enemy, and his front 
further protected by a morass and rising 



174 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

ground, he felt confident of victory, and 
believed that by one blow he should re- 
gain the fortune which had so long deserted 
him. 

ix. When King William reached the Boyne, 
he proceeded to reconnoitre the position occu- 
pied by his rival, and the enemy observing his 
approach, posted some field pieces so that their 
fire should command his person. A man and 
two horses were killed by his side, and the 
second shot, rebounding from the earth, grazed 
his right shoulder, carried off part of his 
clothes and skin, and produced a considerable 
contusion. He showed not the least emotion 
at the accident, but his attendants were 
thrown into some confusion, and the enemy 
apprehending from the disorder that the king 
was killed, broke out into loud acclamations 
of joy, — so essential to the success of their 
party did they consider the death of William, 
and so involuntary was the tribute which they 
paid to his heroism and statesmanship ! The 
glad tidings spread from place to place until 
they convulsed Dublin with pleasure. Thence 
they flashed their triumphant joy to Paris, 
where the intelligence was greeted with bon- 
fires and illuminations. But the rejoicings 



BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 175 

were premature. William rode along the 
line of his armj to show that he was safe, 
and at night, calling a council of war, de- 
clared his resolution of attacking the enemj. 

X. On the following morning (July 1st), was 
fought the famous battle of the Bojne, which 
destroyed all James's hopes of regaining the 
crown of the three kingdoms. The action 
was very hotly contested, but terminated in 
the total defeat of the Irish, who lost 1500 
killed, and a much larger number wounded. 
William, on this occasion, displayed even 
more than his usual intrepidity. Yet he re* 
ceived '' no manner of hurt in the action, 
though he was in the height of it ; only a 
cannon ball carried away a piece of his boot. 
His Majesty did all that the greatest captain 
could do on such an occasion, and demeaned 
himself throughout with that compact gal- 
lantry, resolution, and pretence, that was so 
peculiar to himself, and was such a poise for 
the battle to incline to his own side, that his 
very enemies confessed that if the English 
changed kings with them they would fight the 
battle over again.'' The contrast which the 
conduct of James presented disheartened his 
followers. He appeared to have lost the tra- 



176 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

ditional courage of Ms race. While the gal- 
lant partizans of a bad cause faced death in 
the swift shot or the bright steel, he remained 
afar fi'om the shock of battle, posted on the 
hill of Dunmore, and guarded by the sabres 
of a few squadrons of horse. As soon as the 
tide of war rolled backwards, without making 
an effort to rally his struggling troops, he 
retired towards Dublin, where he only paused 
to accuse the army which had bled for him, 
of cowardice, and on the next day retreated 
to Waterford. There he embarked in a vessel 
prepared for his reception, which, out at sea, 
fell in with a French squadron under the 
Sieur de Florun. He now went on board a 
fast sailing frigate, was safely conveyed to 
France, and hastened to the luxurious ease 
and miniature court of St. Germains, where, 
in theological disputes with his priests, he 
soon forgot his disasters, or, at least, the 
causes of them. 

LAST SCENES. 

i. A.D. 1693. A conspiracy to assassinate 
King William — which received the counte- 
nance of James — having been discovered and 
defeated, the royal exile determined upon one 



WITNESSES A SEA-FIGHT. 177 

more attempt to regain his throne. Louis 
the 14th again came to his succour, and made 
vast preparations both by land and sea for 
the invasion of England. But these projects 
were frustrated by the great victory off Cape 
La Hogue, when Admiral Eussel completely 
shattered the powerful fleet collected under M. 
de Tourville (May 19). The engagement was 
witnessed by James himself from a conve- 
nient point on the shore, and though the 
catastrophe which befel his allies implied the 
ruin of his cause, he was unable to refuse his 
admiration at the undaunted resolution with 
which the English fought. " None but my 
brave English," he exclaimed, '^ could perform 
such deeds of valour !" And when the fight 
was done, as a few scattered shot whistled 
near his post, he cried out, " Alas, T see that 
Heaven itself fights against me." 

He appears to have entertained this opinion 
with his usual obstinacy, and to have sincerely 
believed that Providence had declared against 
him. It is certain that during the brief re- 
mainder of his career he made no further ef- 
fort to recover his dominions. He retired to 
St. Germains, and wholly gave himself up to 

I 5 



178 jamEkS, duke of york. 

religious exercises. It is said that he never 
spoke bitterly of those who had betrayed him ; 
that he expressed no regret for his past 
splendours ; that he read unmoved the 
calumnies aimed at him by his enemies ; 
that the loss of his kingdom he acknowledged 
to be a just punishment for his offences; that 
he was assiduous in his devotions and rigor- 
ous in his austerities. His constant prayer 
was for death. " I am a great sinner,'' he 
would say, '^ and yet cannot but desire 
death with all my heart." " Is it possible, 
sir," the queen would reply, '' that you can 
have so little consideration for me and our 
children? What shall become of us when 
you are gone?" "Madame," he answered, 
'' God will take care of you and my children ; 
for what am I but a poor frail man, who can 
avail nothing without Him, whereas He has 
no need of me to accomplish his designs !" 
And when one who was present, observing 
how the queen grieved at this discourse, 
begged of him to refrain from it in her hear- 
ing, he said, — " I do it on purpose to prepare 
her. According to all appearance, and the 
law of nature, I shall die first, and a 
stroke foreseen makes but a slight impression." 



LAST DAYS. 179 

Thus tranquilly and beautifully passed the 
last days of the king's life ; as a sun, per- 
turbed at noon by a mist or cloud, shines out 
in serene splendour when slowly sinking in 
the purple glories of the west. 

ii. The death of his daughter. Queen 
Mary, in 1694, appears to have somewhat 
disturbed his calm. She died without asking 
his forgiveness, or expressing any contrition 
for her undutifulness towards him. All other 
human affections were in her swallowed up 
and lost in her boundless love for her hus- 
band. James had hoped that her death 
would have opened the path to the English 
throne for his son, and he could not but feel 
a poignant disappointment when he discovered 
that William's seat was as firm as in her life- 
time, and that the succession was devolved 
upon the Protestant house of Hanover. " All 
that the king got by her death," he says in 
his Memoirs, "was an additional affliction 
to those he already underwent, by seeing a 
child, whom he had always cherished beyond 
expression, and loved so tenderly, persevere 
to her death in such a signal state of disobe- 
dience and disloyalty, and to hear her ex- 
toird, and set out for it in the brightest 



180 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

colours, as the highest virtue, by the merce- 
nary flatterers of those times. Even that dull 
man. Dr. Tenison, then Archbishop of Can- 
terbury, who with his languid oration at her 
funeral rather diverted than edify *d the com- 
pany, ranked it amongst her highest praises, 
that by long and laborious contradictions she 
got the better of her duty to her parents, in 
consideration of her religion and her country. 
. . . . If anything had been able to 
trouble the tranquillity which the king's re- 
signation afforded him, this would have done 
it, especially when he heard his poor daugh- 
ter had been so deluded as to declare at her 
death, that ' her conscience no way troubled 
her, — that if she had done anything which the 
world might blame her for, it was with the 
advice of the most learned men of her church, 
who were to answer for it, not she.' This 
made the king cry out : ' miserable way of 
arguing, so fatal both to the deceiver and 
those that suffer themselves to be de- 
cievedT"* 

iii. On the 4th of March, 1701, after hear- 
ing a passage in the Psalms which he felt to 
be peculiarly illustrative of the trials he had 

* T he Stuart Papers, in Clarke's Life of James the 2nd, 



HIS LAST ILLNESS. 181 

himself endured, lie was seized with a fainting 
fit. Remedies having been applied with some 
success, his physicians advised him to try the 
waters of Bourbon. They seemed to accom- 
plish his complete recovery, so that early in 
September he returned to St. Germains, but 
again, in the same chapel, he was seized with 
a similar attack. His attendants succeeded in 
restoring sensibility, and removed him to his 
chamber, where he once more fainted, falling 
into the outstretched arms of his trembling 
Queen. On the following Sunday, he was 
afflicted with a third seizure, which left him 
for a considerable period motionless and in- 
sensible as in death, and when the doctors 
forced open his moath, he vomited a large 
quantity of blood before he recovered his 
perception of things around him. As soon 
as the vomiting ceased, he desired his 
confessor to read from the Sacrament, and, 
believing that the need was urgent, implored 
him to make haste, that he might not be de- 
prived of any of the consolations of the church. 
Meanwhile, he sent for the Prince, his son, 
who, at his first entrance, seeing the king 
with a pale and ghastly countenance, and his 
bed bedabbled with blood, broke out, as well 



182 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

as all about him, into the most violent ex- 
pressions of grief. As soon as he came to 
the bedside, the king, '' with a sort of con- 
tentedness in his look," stretched forth his 
arms to embrace him, and then, speaking 
with a force and vehemence that suited better 
his zeal than his feeble condition, conjured 
him to adhere firmly to the Catholic faith, in 
spite of probable consequences ; to be faithful 
in service towards God ; to be reverentially 
obedient to the Queen, the best of mothers ; 
and to be lastingly grateful to the King of 
France, to whom he was under so many obli- 
gations. Those who were present, appre- 
hending that the concern and fervour with 
which he spoke might do him prejudice, de- 
sired that the Prince might withdraw, which 
the King being troubled at, said, " Do not take 
away my son till I have given him my bless- 
ing, at least,'' which, when he had done, the 
Prince returned to his apartment, and the 
little Princess was brought to his bedside, to 
whom he spoke to the same effect ; while she, 
with the abundance of her innocent tears, 
showed how sensibly she was touched with 
the languishing condition the king her father 
was in. He then partook of the last Sacra- 



HIS LAST ILLNESS. 183 

ment, expressed his forgiveaess of his enemies, 
and especially of bis daughter Anne, the 
Princess of Denmark, and the " Prince of 
Orange ;'' and declared that he died in charity 
towards all the world. He next received a 
visit from Louis the 14th, who, coming to his 
bedside, said, " Sir, I am come to see how 
your Majesty finds yourself to-day ;" but 
the king, not hearing, made no reply. One 
of his servants telling him the King of France 
was present, James roused himself, and said, 
" Where is he?" upon which the King of 
France replied, " Sir, I am here, and am come 
to see how you do/' James then began to 
thank him for all favours, and particularly 
for the care and kindness he had shown him 
during his sickness ; to which the Most Chris- 
tian Louis replied, '' Sir, that is but a small 
matter ; I have something to acquaint you of 
greater importance/' Upon which the king's 
servants, imagining he would be private, the 
room being full of people, began to retire, 
which his Most Christian Majesty perceiving, 
said out loud, " Let nobody withdraw," and 
then went on, ''I am come. Sir, to acquaint 
you that whenever it shall please God to call 
your Majesty out of this world, I will take 



184 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

jour family into my protection, and will 
treat your son, the Prince of Wales, in the 
same manner I have treated you, and acknow- 
ledge him, as he then will be, King of Eng- 
land." 

Upon which all that were present, as well 
French as English, burst into tears, not being 
able any other way to express that mixture 
of joy and grief with which they were so sur- 
prisingly seized. Some indeed threw them- 
selves at his Most Christian Majesty^s feet; 
others by their gestures and countenances 
(much more expressive on such occasions than 
words and speeches) declared their gratitude 
for so generous an action ; with which his 
Most Christian Majesty was so moved, that 
he could not refrain weeping himself. The 
king, all this while, was endeavouring to say 
something to him upon it, but the confused 
noise being too great, and he too weak to 
make himself be heard, his Most Christian 
Majesty took his leave and went away; and 
as he got into his coach, called the officer of 
the guard who waited upon the king, and 
gave him directions to follow and attend the 
Prince of Wales as soon as the King was 
dead, and show him the same respect and 



f 



HIS EPITAPH. 185 



honours he had done to the King his father 
when he was alive/'' 

iv. James the Second died at St. Germain's, 
on the 16th of September, 1701, in the 68th 
year of his age. His remains were embalmed, 
and after lying in state for several days, were 
interred with regal pomp in the Church of 
St. Germains, beneath the altar. A monu- 
ment was placed there to his memory at the 
private cost of George the 4th, and bears an 
inscription of more than ordinary elegance : — 

EEGIO CINERI PIETAS REGIA. . 

Ferale quisquis hoc monumentum suspicis, 

Rerum humanarum vices meditare. 

Magnus in prosperis, in adversis major, 

Jacobus 2us, Anglorum rex, 

Insignes aerumnas dolendaque nimium fata, 

Pio placidoque obitu exsolvit 

In hac urbe 

Die xvio. Septembris, anni 1701 ; 

Et nobiliores qusedam corporis ejus partes 

Hie reconditse asservantur. 

Qui prius augusta gestabat fronte coronam 

Exigua nunc pulvereus requiescit in urna. 

Quid solium, quid et alta juvant ? terit omnia lethum ; 

Verum laus fidei ac morum baud peritura manebit. 

Tu quoque, summe Deus, regem quern regius hospes 

Infaustum excepit, tecum regnare jubebis. 

V. James the Second, by his first wife, Anne 
Hyde, had the following issue : — t 

* Clarke's James the Second— the Stuart Papers. 

t By Catherine Sedley he had one daughter, Catherine Darnley; 
and by Arabella Churchill, James Duke of Berwick, and Henry Fitz- 
James, the Grand Prior; Henrietta, afterwards Lady Waldegrave, 
and a daughter who died in a convent. 



186 JAMES, DUKE OF YORK. 

1. Charles, Dule of Cambridge, born Oct. 
22, 1660 ; died May 5, 1661. 2. Mary, Queen 
of England, born April 30, 1662; died 1694. 

3. James, Duke of Cambridge, born July 12, 
1663 ; died a few days later. 4 & 5. Dukes 
of Kendal and Cambridge, twins ; born July 

4, 1664; died, the former. May 22, 1667, and 
the latter, June 20, 1667. 6. Anne, after- 
wards Queen of England, born February 6, 
1665; died 1714. 7. A son, born July 4, 
1666.1 8. Edgar, Duke of Cambridge, born 

^Sept. 14, 1667 ; died June 8, 1671. 9. Hen- 
rietta, born January 13, 1669 ; died Nov. 
15. 10. Catherine, born February 9, 1671 ; 
died December 5, 1671. 

By Mary of Modena, Queen of England : — 
1. Charles, Duke of Cambridge, born Nov. 
7, 1673; died December 12. 2. Catherine 
Laura, born January 10, 1675 ; died Oct. 4. 
3. Isabella, born August 28, 1676; died 
March 2, 1681. 4. Charlotte Maria, born 
August 15, 1682; died October 6, 1682. 5. 
James Frederick, " the Pretender," born June 
10, 1688; died 1766. 6. Maria Louisa Teresa, 
born June 28, 1692; died April 8, 1712. 



CHAPTER IV. 



PEINCE JAMES FREDERICK EDWARD STUART, 

ELDEST LEGITIMATE SON OF JAMES II. 

A.D. 1688—1766. 



1. His Early Yeaes.— 2. The Campaign of 1715.— 
3. Closing Scenes. 



[Authorities:— Earl Stanhope's History of England; Earl Rus- 
sell's Nations of Europe from the Peace of Utrecht; Ellis's 
Original Correspondence ; Dalrymple's Memoirs ; Parliamentary 
History ; True Account of the Proceedings at Perth ; Horace 
Walpole's Letters, ed. Bentley, etc.] 



CHAPTEE IV. 



PRINCE JAMES FREDERICK EDWARD STUART, 
SON OF JAMES II. 



HIS EARLY YEARS. 



As I went by St. James's I heard a bird sing, 

That the Queen had for certain a boy for the King ; 

But one of the soWiers did laugh and did say, 

It was born over-night, and brought forth the next day. 

This bantling was heard at St. James's to squall, 

Which made the Queen make so much haste from "ViTiitehalL 

CONTEMPORAKY BALLAD. 



i. It was the misfortune of James Frederick 
Edward, the eldest legitimate son of James II., 
to be born at a time of a great popular convul- 
sion, when men's minds were perturbed by 
strange suspicions, and the arbitrary govern- 
ment of his father had aroused a spirit of 



190 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

bitter hostility against him. From the first 
announcement of the Queen's pregnancy the 
report had been generally credited that it was 
but a gross imposture, and that James, in 
order to establish a Eoman Catholic dynasty, 
designed to foist a supposititious child upon 
his Protestant subjects as the Prince of Wales 
As early as January (1688) the Earl of Cla^ 
rendon could write, "It is strange to see how 
the Queen's being with child is everywhere 
ridiculed, as if scarce anybody believed it to 
be true ;" and the lampooners and ballad- 
writers of the age found the supposed ima- 
ginary pregnancy of Mary of Modena a fer- 
tile theme for their bold and not over-delicate 
wit. It was even doubted by her sister-in- 
law, the Princess Anne ; and many of the 
leading statesmen of the time discredited, or 
pretended to discredit, it. The imprudent 
conduct of the Queen herself seemed to give 
fresh force to the calumny. Only a few days 
before her accouchement she ordered her 
apartments to be got ready in St. James's, 
and removed thither from Whitehall, between 
eleven and twelve o'clock on Saturday night, 
the 9th of June.* Between the hours of nine 

* Bishop Kennet. 



;1 



HIS BIRTH. 191 

and ten on the following morning, she was 
trought to bed of a male child — the unfor- 
tunate James Frederick Edward, known in 
English history as the Pretender. 

ii. The infant prince was not long permitted 
to enjoy the position of "heir to the throne,'* 
and though born in the purple was fated to a 
career of sad and disastrous change. The 
invasion of the Prince of Orange, and the 
wide-spread treachery which surrounded 
James and impeded all his movements, deter- 
mined him to provide for the escape of his 
Queen and child at the earliest possible op- 
portunity. He found a capable instrument 
in the bold and audacious Lauzun, who had 
been banished from France on account of his 
pretensions to the hand of Mademoiselle de 
Montpensier, and had only just obtained per- 
mission to return. His yacht, for that pur- 
pose, was at this very juncture lying off 
Gravesend. To him, therefore, the king en- 
trusted his secret, and had the satisfaction of 
finding him eager to discharge the trust he 
sought to impose upon him. 

iii. James had retired to bed when Lauzun 
returned, accompanied by one Monsieur de 
St. Victor, and informed him that all the 



192 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

necessary arrangements liad been completed. 
He instantly arose, and hastening to the 
Queen's apartments, brought her acquainted 
with his intentions. How great soever the 
faults, how glaring soever the follies, of Mary 
of Modena, she possessed, at least, the wo- 
manly virtue of affection for her husband ; 
and, now, flinging herself at his feet, she pas- 
sionately implored him to permit her to stay 
and share in his perils ; nor did she cease her 
entreaties until James, who with difficulty 
preserved his calmness, ordered her attendants 
to arouse the Marchioness of Powis (the 
prince's governess), and the two nurse-women. 
While the Queen hastily attired herself in a 
travelling costume, the King remained in- 
flexible and tranquilly austere, but when the 
babe was brought into his presence, it was 
seen that his coldness was assumed. A glance 
at his infant heir broke down his firmness, and 
caressing him tenderly, he besought the Count 
de Lauzun, with faltering voice, to watch 
vigilantly over the safety of his precious 
charge.* 

iv. At three o'clock on the morning of the 
10th of December, the Queen, bearing her child 

* Strickland's Queens of England : Mary of Modena. 



THE queen's escape. 193 

in her arms, and followed by her ladies, glided 
with noiseless feet through the corridors of 
Whitehall, descended the private stairs, and 
reached the waterside. It was a bleak and 
dreary night. Not a star broke the intense 
dulness of the winter-sky. The wind blew 
in sudden gusts ; the rain fell heavily ; and 
the river rolled to and fro with a tempestuous 
emotion. But the fugitives had no time to 
meditate on these inconveniences, and, step- 
ping into an open boat, crossed the Thames 
to Lambeth Stairs. A coach had been hired 
to wait their arrival, but from some misunder- 
standing, it was not at its post ; and the Queen, 
with the heir of England in her arms, was 
fain to shelter herself from the stormy night, 
and from the gaze of any over-curious stranger, 
beneath the gray old walls of Lambeth church. 
The precaution she had taken was not a need- 
less one. The attention of a man who came 
out of a neighbouring inn with a light in his 
hand was casually attracted thitherward. 
He made towards the spot where the trem- 
bling Queen was sheltered, when Da Eiva, 
one of her attendants, suddenly stept into his 
path, and jostling him, as if by accident, the 

VOL. II. K 



194 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

twain fell into the mire. The stranger be- 
lieving nothing intentional in the rencontre, 
made and accepted apologies, and went on 
his way without any further scrutiny. 

V. The coach now arrived, and by rapid 
stages the Queen and her attendants made their 
way to Gravesend, taking care not to stop in 

I any considerable town where the royal person 

might haply have been recognised. At 
Gravesend she assumed the character of an 

1 Italian lady returning to her own land, and 

j was permitted' to embark unquestioned on 

board De Lauzun's yacht. To guard against 
any treachery on the part of the captain, De 
Lauzun had engaged the services of three 
Irish officers, who kept closely by the sea- 
man's side throughout the voyage, prepared 

i to inflict a prompt and signal vengeance if 

occasion should require it. The voyage, 
however, was accomplished without accident 

I or adventure. The Queen arrived safely at 

Calais, and by the express orders of Louis 
Quatorze, was conducted to the castle of St. 
Germains with royal ceremony. There she 
was soon afterwards joined by her husband, 
and they devoted their constant attention to 



I 



PROCLAIMED KING. 195 

tte education of tlie youthful prince, until, 
by the death of his father, September 16, 
1701, he succeeded to the Stuart's heritage 
of sorrow and misfortune. As we have 
stated in the preceding chapter, Louis pro- 
mised the dying king to grant to his son the 
royal honours he had paid to him ; and no 
sooner had James the II. expired than he 
caused to be proclaimed, with blare of trum- 
pet and roar of cannon, James the III., King 
of Great Britain and Ireland. On the fol- 
lowing day the pseudo-sovereign went in 
state to Versailles to return the real sovereign's 
visit. He was received with the . most 
punctilious respect and ceremony, for Louis 
XIV. was essentially the king of Chamber- 
lains, and " Le Grand Monarque" of Ushers. 
''When he met him a-top of the stairs, he took 
him in his arms and embraced him with as 
much kindness and tenderness as if he had 
been his own son.'' He conducted him into 
a room where there were two arm-chairs for 
the two kings — the King of France giving 
him the right hand. When the visit was 
over, Louis conducted him, with a profusion 
of courtesies, to the top of the stairs, and the 

K 2 



196 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

Prince returned to St. Germains with a 
suitable escort. 

vi. The same mimicry of kingly state that 
had glittered round the father, now shone 
about the son, and intrigues and plots, rival- 
ries and heart-burnings, were as rife at the 
Chateau of St. Germains as at the Palace of 
Versailles. To play the puppet-king, to 
dawdle with mistresses, and to lisp penitence 
into the ears of indulgent confessors, James 
Edward was excellently fitted ; but to bear 
his part in any noble enterprise, to strike a 
daring blow for the recovery of the triple 
crown, was a task beyond his powers. His 
person was not unkingly — he was tall of 
stature, his limbs well-proportioned, his coun- 
tenance blandly handsome, and his address 
gracious. But his abilities were not even 
respectable, and he lacked the inflexibility 
and firm resolution which had distinguished 
his father while Duke of York. His educa- 
tion had been of a character better adapted 
to the role of a Jesuit than that of a king; 
and his capacity had not enabled him to 
break the trammels which a narrow bigotry 
had imposed upon him. Had he succeeded 
to the quiet inheritance of an established 



POLITICAL MOVEMENTS. 197 

throne, he would probably have reigned to 
bis people^s satisfaction, if not to his own 
glory, for he would never have dared, like 
his father, to attempt the foundation of any 
novel system of government. But to win a 
crown by his sword, or by the exercise of 
any high qualities of statesmanship, was an 
enterprise in which he whom our forefathers 
called " the Pretender'' was not intended by 
nature to be successful. 

vii. The year 1 701 must have appeared to the 
phantom king and his mimic court as specially 
fated to destroy the hopes of the Stuarts, for 
in that year the memorable Act of Settlement, 
which entailed the English crown on the 
Protestant heirs of Sophia, Electress Dowager 
of Hanover, grand-daughter of James I., 
received the royal assent. Another act, 
which received the signature of William III., 
as he lay in his death agonies, formally de- 
nounced the Chevalier de St. George, as 
Prince James Edward was generally styled. 
But the accession of Queen Anne again revived 
the drooping hopes of his faction; and it was 
believed that her affection for her brother 
would induce her to recognise him as her 
lawful heir. During the early part of Anne's 



198 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

reign, however, she manifested no such weak- 
ness, though many of her leading councillors 
and most trusted ministers carried on an 
active correspondence with the court of St. 
Germains. And Louis, anxious to arrest the 
progress of Marlborough's arms in the 
Netherlands, to distract the attention and 
divide the resources of his powerful enemy, 
resolved upon an effort to replace the son of 
James II. upon the British throne, and chose 
Scotland as the theatre of his military 
operations (A.D. 1706-7). 

viii. No more favourable juncture could pro- 
bably have presented itself. The Scots were 
sorely grieved at the recent union of the two 
kingdoms; the regular troops, under the 
Earl of Devon, amounted to not more than 
two thousand ^ve hundred, and many of 
these were disaffected ; the castle of Edinburgh 
was wholly unfitted to endure a siege ; the 
high church party in England regarded the 
Chevalier as their legitimate monarch, and his 
adherents might be found in the court and in 
the council chamber, and occupying the most 
important offices of state. Colonel Hook, 
therefore, was sent over to Scotland by the 
court of St. Germains to ascertain on what 



SCOTCH LOYALTY. 199 

amount of support tlie Chevalier might 
reasonably relj. He found the spirit of the 
people burning for revenge upon Queen Anne 
and her ministry, and glowing with loyalty to 
the exiled Stuart. " Give us our King," they 
said, " and a barrel of gunpowder, and thirty 
thousand strong, we'll march into England/' 
Colonel Hook's report was accordingly so 
favourable, and he spoke so sanguinely of 
the prospects which were opening before the 
Chevalier, that Louis determined to assist him 
in an attempt at invasion. A French fleet, 
therefore, assembled at Dunkirk under the 
command of the Chevalier de Fourbin, and 
about five thousand men embarked, under 
the leadership of the Comte de Gace, after- 
wards known as the Mar^chal de Matignon. 
Louis showed to James Edward the same 
splendid generosity that he had displayed 
towards his father, and provided him with 
sumptuous accoutrements, with gold and sil- 
ver plate, with rich liveries for his servants, 
with all the appurtenances, in fact, of regal 
state. On bidding him farewell, he placed in 
his hand a diamond-hilted sword, and re- 
peated the parting speech with which he had 
saluted his father when proceeding on a 



200 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

similar expedition, — " Adieu ! the best wish 
I can make you is, that I may never see your 
face again !'^ It was an ill omen, this fare- 
well, as Louis would have done well to have 
remembered. 

ix. Meanwhile the English government had 
made an effort to prepare for the Chevalier's 
reception. Ten British battalions were 
ordered home from Ostend, and a fleet, fitted 
out with admirable rapidity, was put under 
the orders of Admirals Leake and Byng, and 
sailed from Deal for Dunkirk. Great was 
the amazement of the French when Leake, 
vrhom they thought to be at Lisbon, brought 
up his ships off Mardyke. They put a stop 
to the embarcation of their troops, and the 
Comte de Fourbin despatched representations 
to Louis that there was but little hope of 
success for the projected enterprise. But 
Louis was more confident than his Admiral, 
and ordered him to persevere. Accordingly, 
the British fleet having been blown off Dun- 
kirk by a strong gale, the expedition sailed on 
the 19th of March, 1707, with a fair wind 
for the Coast of Scotland. 

X. The adventurers had sailed some leagues 
up the Frith of Forth, and their signals were 



A DISAPPOINTMENT. 201 

communicating the glad intelligence of their 
arrival to the wistful eyes of the Jacobites 
on shore, when the sound of cannon off the 
mouth of the Frith warned them that Sir 
George Byng was on their track. The Comte 
de Fourbin did not dare to give him battle, 
but taking advantage of the wind which blew 
off land, glided out of the estuary, and crowded 
on all sail for the Coast of Holland. Though 
closely pursued by Byng, the superior swift- 
ness of his ships enabled him to effect his 
escape ; only " the Salisbury,'' a sluggish 
sailor, falling into the hands of the British 
Admiral. During the night the French 
altered their course, and next day were out 
of sight of their enemies. 

xi. When Prince James Edward was apprised 
by De Fourbin of his need to put out to sea 
that he might escape the British fleet, he 
broke out into a passion of the deepest dis- 
appointment. Having recovered from his 
first bitter emotions he solicited the Admiral, 
to give him and his attendants a small vessel, 
which might land them on the Coast of Fife, 
where, he said, the old castle of Wemyss, 
held by a loyal adherent, would provide him 

K 5 



202 JAMES FKEDERICK STUART, 

with a refuge, and his partisans with a 
rendezvous. To this proposition De Fourbin 
refused his assent, alleging that by the orders 
of his sovereign he was bound to take the 
same precautions for the Chevalier's safety 
as he would have done for that of Louis him- 
self, and that he must, therefore, refuse to 
expose him to the attacks of his enemies in a 
decaying stronghold, situated in an unpro- 
tected country. The Chevalier then desired 
they might proceed to the northward, to land 
him at Inverness, and to this proposal De 
Fourbin was at first inclined to agree ; but 
the wind veering about, and blowing directly 
ahead, he represented the voyage as imprac- 
ticable or dangerous, and, with the consent of 
James Edward and his general, ordered his 
ships to make all sail for Dunkirk. 

Such was the impotent conclusion of an 
expedition that had a fairer prospect of a 
successful issue than any attempted by James 
or by his son.* 



* Lingard's England. Cunningliam's Reign of Queen Anne. 



WARLIKE EXPERIENCES. 203 

II. 
THE CAMPAIGN OF 1715. 

i. The Chevalier, anxious to obtain some expe- 
rience in the field, and disappointed in his hope 
of recovering his father^s crown now joined the 
French army in Flanders, under the illustrious 
Villars, and in the battles of Oudenard and 
Malplaquet, showed himself possessed of the 
traditional courage of his race. In the former 
famous fight — it is worthy of note — among 
the illustrious personages who contended 
under the banner of Marlborough was the 
Chevalier's more fortunate rival, the son of 
the Electress of Hanover, afterwards George 
I. At Malplaquet, the Chevalier was 
wounded in the arm., and it is said that he 
charged twelve times with the household 
troops of France, the Brigade Du Eoi. 

The disastrous issue of the campaigns in the 
Low Countries, and the victories by which 
Marlborough had won his way to the very 
borders of France, compelled Louis to sue for 
ipeace, and aided by the political intrigues of 
Harley and his fellow-conspirators, he was 



204 JAMES FREDERICK STUART, 

fortunate enough to conclude the Treaty of 
Utrecht. In this most famous Treaty, it 
was stipulated that Louis should recognise 
Anne as Queen of Great Britain, acknowledge 
the Protestant succession as vested in the 
House of Hanover, and order the Pretender to 
quit the French dominions. 

iii. After a vain protest the Chevalier with- 
drew from France, where he had so long been 
sheltered by the generosity of Louis, and took 
up his temporary residence in the territories 
of the Duke of Lorraine. 

It seemed the peculiar destiny of the Che- 
valier to alternate between the most flattering 
hopes and the most terrible discouragements. 
At a moment when, abandoned by Louis, all 
prospect of regaining the royal seat of his an- 
cestors might reasonably be supposed to have 
disappeared, he was elevated to the highest 
pitch of expectation by the overtures he re- 
ceived from the English Jacobites. Harley 
and Bolingbroke carried on with him a secret 
correspondence, and it was observed that the 
Queen placed about her person and in her ser- 
vice the most notorious partisans of the ex- 
iled House. Her health was much affected 
by a severe inflammatory fever ; the loss of her 



A LETTER TO THE QUEEN. 205 

youtliful son had deprived lier of all motive 
for ambitious views ; she looked upon the 
House of Hanover with that antipathy which 
individuals so often cherish towards their 
heirs ; and she regarded her sufferings 
both of mind and body as Heaven's 
punishment of her filial disobedience. The 
Chevalier and his friends had strong reasons 
to believe that she was inclined to alter the 
succession in his favour ; and still further to 
arouse her natural affections and strengthen 
her prepossessions he addressed her a letter 
very skilfully composed. " You may be as- 
sured, Madam,'' he wrote, " that though I can 
never abandon, but with my life, my own 
just right, which you know is unalterably set- 
tled by the most fundamental laws of the land, 
yet I am most desirous to owe to you rather 
than to any one living the recovery of it. It is 
for you that a work so just and glorious is re- 
served. The voice of God and nature calls 
you to it; the promises you made to the 
King, our father, enjoin it ; the preser- 
vation of our family — the preventing 
of unnatural wars require it ; and the 
public good and welfare of our country 
recommend it to you, to rescue it from present 



206 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

and future evils ; which, must, to the latest 
posterity, involve the nation in blood and con- 
fusion till the succession be again settled in 
the right line. I am satisfied, Madam, that if 
you will be guided by your own inclinations, 
you will readily comply with so just and fair 
a proposal as to prefer your own brother, the 
last male of our name, to the Duke of Han- 
over, the remotest relation we have ; whose 
friendship you have no reason to rely on, or 
be fond of; who will leave the Government 
to foreigners of another language, of another 
interest ; and who, by the general naturaliza- 
tion, may bring over crowds of his country- 
men to supply the defect of his right, and 
enslave the nation.'' 

iv. These intrigues did not escape the notice of 
the Whig party, who assuredly represented a 
majority of the people of England, and they 
were not slow in exhibiting their unalterable 
fidelity to the Protestant Succession. They 
even proceeded to such lengths as to pass an 
address to Her Majesty, desiring her to offer a 
reward for the apprehension of the Pretender, 
to which she replied, with mingled dignity 
and good feeling: — " My Lords, it would be 
a real strengthening to the succession in the 



HIS HOPES CRUSHED. 207 

House of Hanover, as well as a support to 
my government, that an end were put to 
those groundless fears and jealousies which 
have been so industriously promoted: I do 
not at this time see any occasion for such a 
proclamation: whenever I judge it to be 
necessary, I shall give my orders for having 
it issued/' These ''fears and jealousies'' 
were not, however, so groundless as Her 
Majesty wished her subjects to believe. It 
is probable chat she had not actually adopted 
a design to nominate the Pretender as her 
successor. The well known Protestant tem- 
per and constitutional inclinations of the bulk 
of the people had made her hesitate, and 
on her death-bed the sense of the troubles 
that an alteration of the succession would 
bring upon the nation, finally conquered her 
natural inclinations in favour of her brother. 
She placed the white staff of the Lord Trea- 
surer in the hands of the great Whig noble- 
man, the Duke of Shrewsbury, and, in so 
doing, crushed for ever the rising hopes 
and brightening prospects of the House of 
Stuart. 

V. When the news of the death of Queen Anne 
reached the Chevalier, he immediately quitted 



208 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

the territories of the Duke of Lorraine, and 
repaired to Versailles. But George the 1st 
having notified to Louis the fact of his acces- 
sion, and called upon him to observe the stip- 
ulations of the Treaty of Utrecht, he vras 
compelled to quit Versailles, and return to 
Lorraine. From thence he issued a manifesto, 
protesting against the accession of "a foreign 
prince " to a throne which was incontestably 
the inheritance of his family, and copies of 
this protest having been placed in the hands 
of the chief English ministers, the ambassador 
of the Duke of Lorraine was refused an audi- 
ence until the Pretender was dismissed from 
the Ducal territories. Meanwhile, the unpopu- 
larity of the new sovereign, and the ani- 
mosity of the High Church party, excited by 
the favours lavished upon the fortunate 
Whigs, produced riots and disturbances in 
many parts of England. The white rose was 
publicly worn on the Pretender's birthday, 
and bells were rung, and his health drunk at 
Leeds, Marlborough, Leicester, and Birming- 
ham. In London it became necessary to call 
out the soldiers. An effigy of William the 
3rd was burnt at Smithfield. A minister, 
who at Whitechapel preached a sermon in 



THE PRINCIPLE OF LOYALTY. 209 

favour of the Hanoverian succession, was 
violently assault. ^d hy the mob. In Lanca- 
shire the magistrates were constrained to levy 
the militia. These disturbances were re- 
garded with great exultation by the Chevalier, 
who looked upon them as indications of the 
national feeling, and began to consider him- 
self as virtually king of Great Britain. But 
the ripple on the wave only conceals the 
stillness which sleeps below. The country 
gentry and the mob were in favour of the 
Chevalier. He represented to them that 
principle of loyalty which has always so 
powerfully affected the English people ; but 
the principle of order is scarcely less influen- 
tial with our grave and reserved nation, and 
that principle was identified by the wealthy 
nobles, and the commercial and trading 
classes, with the House of Hanover. We 
believe, therefore, that the adherents of the 
Stuarts were wrong in supposing that the 
English people — as a people — desired their 
restoration, and we believe that the acces- 
sion of the son of James the 2nd to the throne 
would have been the signal for a civil commo- 
tion which would once more have resulted in 
the expulsion of the Stuart dynasty. 



210 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

vi. The Chevalier's party was strongest in 
Scotland, but to render an invasion successful 
it was obviously necessary that a rising should 
take place simultaneously both in England 
and Scotland, or all the resources of the Eng- 
lish government would be devoted to the sub- 
j ugation of the weaker country. It was equally 
needful that the invasion should be supported 
by the strength and power of France, and 
England alarmed for the safety of her own 
shores. The death of Louis the 14th, which 
followed closely upon the death of Anne, 
completed the downfall of the Stuarts, though 
the Chevalier and some of his enthusiastic 
advisers would not acknowledge the import- 
ance of that event. The Eegent, who con- 
trolled the government of France during the 
long minority of Louis the 15th, had entered 
into confidential engagements with the minis- 
ters of George the 1st, and amused the Pre- 
tender's agents with " mysterious and equivo- 
cal expressions," calculated to frustrate the 
design of the expedition. Bolingbroke, who 
had fled from England to escape a bill of at- 
tainder, and accepted the post of Secretary of 
State to the Chevalier, confesses that his sole 
dependence was upon the ambition and energy 



LORD BOLINGBROKE. 211 

of Louis the 14tli. "My hopes/' he says, 
'' sank as he declined, and died when he ex- 
pired/^ He was astonished at the confidence 
which animated the Chevalier, and at the 
want of system and method which character- 
ised the administration of his affairs. " The 
Jacobites,^' he says, "had wrought one 
another up to look upon the success of the 
present designs as infallible ; every meeting- 
house which the populace demolished, every 
drunken riot which happened, served to con- 
firm them in these sanguine expectations, and 
there was hardly one amongst them who 
would lose the air of contributing by his in- 
trigues to the restoration, which he took for 
granted would be brought about without him, 
in a very few weeks." 

vii. The Chevalier's designs were made 
known to the English government, who took 
the necessary steps to defeat them ; committed 
some of the principal Jacobites to the Castle 
of Edinburgh ; despatched reinforcements to 
strengthen the regular army, and appointed to 
the command-in-chief the powerful and po- 
pular Duke of Argyle. The Earl of Mar, 
who had led the Jacobite party in Scotland, 
finding that he had gone too far to retreat, 



212 JAMES FEEDEEICK STUAET. 

hastened to the Highlands ; assembled the 
vassals of his clan ; and " crossed the Rubicon'* 
of civil war at Braemar, on the 26th of 
August, 1715. He had proclaimed a grand 
hunting-match to cover his de^signs, and as- 
sembled there the Marquis of Huntlej, the 
Marquis of Tullibardine ; the Earls of Niths- 
dale, Traquair, Errol, Marischal, Carnwath, 
Linlithgow, Southesk, and Seaforth ; Vis- 
counts Stormont, Kilsythe, Kenmuir, and 
Kingston ; Lords Eollo, Nairn, DuflPus, 
Ogilvy, Strathallan, and Drummond; the 
Chief of Glengary, and Campbell of Glenda- 
ride. Having pledged their fealty to James 
the Third, and sworn to be faithful to one 
another, they retired to their estates to levy 
and arm their vassals. 

viii. This famous gathering of the clans is 
celebrated in a popular Jacobite ballad, com- 
posed, however, some years after the event 
it perpetuates : — | 

"The auld Stuart's back again, ^ 

The auld Stuart's back again, i 

Let h owlet Whigs do what they can, 

The auld Stuart's back again. 
What cares for a' their crushy deeds, 
And a' Kilmarnock sowen seeds? 
We'll wauk their hides, and fyle their feeds, 
And bring the Stuarts back again. 



A POPULAR BALLAD. 213 

" There's Ayr and Irrine, wi' the rest. 
And a' the cronies i' the west, 
Lord ! sic sea wed and scabbit nest, 

How they'll set up their crack again 1 
But wad they come, or dare they come, 
Afore the bagpipe and the drum, 
We'll either gar them a' sing dumb, 
Or ' auld Stuart's back again.' 

" Give ear unto my loyal sang, 
A' ye that ken the right frae wrang. 
And a' that look and think it lang. 

For auld Stuart' s back again. 
Were ye wi' me to chase the rae. 
Out oure the hills and far away. 
And saw the lords were there that day, 

To bring the Stuarts back again. ,] 

" Then what are a' their Westland crews ? 
We'll gar the tailors back again. 
Can they forestand the tartan trews. 
And auld Stuart's back again?" 

ix. On the 6th of September, the chieftains 
and their clans assembled at Braemar, when 
the Standard of James the 3rd was formally- 
erected. " The standard, which was said to 
have been worked by the Countess of Mar, 
was of blue silk ; having on one side the 
arms of Scotland wrought in gold, and on the 
other side the Scottish thistle, with the ancient 
motto. Nemo me imjpune lacessit. It had also 
two pendants of white ribbons, on one of 
which were the words, ' For our wronged 
King and oppressed Country,' and on the 



214 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

other, ' For our Lives and Liberties.'* 
Scarcely had it been set up, before the orna- 
mental ball which surmounted it fell off, — an 
incident which the superstitious Highlanders 
regarded as an evil omen for the cause they 
had embraced. 



" But when our standard was set up, 

So fierce the wind did blaw, Willie, 
The golden Knop down from the top 

Unto the ground did fa', Willie ; 
Then second-sighted Sandy said, 

We'll do nae gude at a', Willie ; 
While pipers play'd frae right to left, 

Fy, furich Whigs awa, Willie." 



The Earl of Mar soon found himself at the 
head of an army of ten thousand men, and 
having secured the pass of the Tay at Perth, 
he made himself master of the whole of Fife- 
shire, and of the seacoast on that side of the 
Frith. He sent a detachment under Brigadier 
Mackintosh to seize Edinburgh Castle. The 
design was good, and had it been successfully 
carried out, would have afforded the insur- 
gents a rallying-point in the very capital of 
the kingdom. But to all the Jacobite rebel- 
lions there was lacking unity of purpose, and 
that concentration of means which proceeds 

* Jesse's Coxurt of England under the Stuarts. 



PROGEESS OF THE REBELLION. 215 

from the supreme command being vested in 
one man of extraordinary capacity. The 
Jacobites had many gallant soldiers, and ad- 
mirable guerilla leaders, but not one good 
Igeneral. The enterprise on Edinburgh failed, 
and Mar occupied much valuable time in 
j useless delays and contrary movements, while 
the Duke of Argyle was rapidly receiving 
reinforcements from England. He did not 
I draw his troops out of Perth until the 10th of 
, November, when believing the royal army to 
be posted at Stirling, he marched towards the 
Forth, with the view of carrying the war into 
England. At Auchterarder he reviewed the 
soldiers and rested, on the 11th ; and on the 
following day, Argyle having been strength- 
1 ened with some squadrons of dragoons from 
i Ireland, and apprised of the Jacobite leader's 
I intention, rapidly threw his army across the 
Forth, determined to give him battle in the 
neighbourhood of Dunblane. His left was 
' encamped at that village, and his right ex- 
j tended towards Sheriff-muir. 

On the 13th, Mar, who was at the head of 
9,000 effective men, both horse and foot, had 
drawn up his army in order of battle within 
two miles of the royal camp. As soon as the 



(I 



216 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

Duke learned their movements, lie posted his 
forces, which did not muster more than 3,500 
men, on the heights to the north-east of Dun- 
blane, but was out-flanked on both wings. 
The Highlanders charged his left, sword in 
hand, with characteristic impetuosity, and 
drove it clearly off the field, while Argyle, on 
his part, led his dragoons with equal success 
against the enemy's left, though not without 
a sharp hot struggle. The victorious High- 
landers, returning from the pursuit, gathered^ 
in Argyle' s rear, and a second engagement 
ensued, which terminated in the Duke's re- 
treat upon Dunblane, and the rebels upon 
Ardoch. But the next day the Duke again 
occupied the field of battle, carried off the 
wounded, and four pieces of cannon abandoned 
by the enemy. He then retired to Stirling. 
Such was the battle of Dunblane, or Sheriff- 
muir. Both sides claimed the victory, but 
as Mar was compelled to retire to Perth, and 
thus to abandon his project of entering Eng- 
land, Argyle assuredly might boast most justly 
of his success. 

xii. Disaster everywhere attended the rebel 
arms, and the insurrection was almost at an 
end, when the Chevalier suddenly made his 



LANDS IN SCOTLAND. 217 

appearance on tlie scene of action. Though 
his hopes of a rising in England had been 
disappointed, and his adherents could offer 
him no secure asylum in Scotland, he resolved 
upon one effort to retrieve his decaying for- 
tunes. From Bretagne he made his way 
along the French coast in the disguise of a 
mariner, and succeeded in reaching Dunkirk, 
where he embarked on board a small priva- 
teer, hired for the purpose, and well armed 
and manned. After a voyage of seven days 
he landed at Peterhead, on the 22nd of Decem- 
ber, 1715, attended by the Marquis of Tyne- 
mouth, son of the Duke of Berwick, Lieu- 
tenant Cameron, and four other persons — all 
attired as naval officers. The news of their 
safe disembarkation was conveyed to France 
by the privateer, and the Chevalier, in a letter 
to his secretary, expressed his pleasure at find- 
ing himself in his ancient kingdom, and at 
the prosperous condition in which he professed 
to have found his affairs.* 

xiii. Two days afterwards, he received, at 
Felteresso, the principal seat of the Earl 
Mareschal, the Earl of Mar, and thirty Scot- 

* Tindal. See also Lingard and Mackintosh. 
VOL. II. L 



218 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

tish gentlemen, anxious to pay their respects 
to their legitimate monarch. He subsequently 
appointed his privy council, and issued six 
proclamations, in the name of James the Third 
of England, and Eighth of Scotland, in which 
he ordered a thankso;ivino; for his safe arrival, 
summoned his lieges to join his standard, and 
appointed the 23rd of Jany., 1716, for the day 
of his coronation. He further amused himself 
by mimicking the prerogatives, before lie had 
obtained the power, of a king; conferring 
titles of honour, and elevating plain squires 
into pseudo knights. He may have thought 
by these proceedings to animate and encourage 
his followers, by professing a confidence which 
assuredly he did not feel; and, indeed, they 
appeared to derive a fresh and joyous inspira- 
tion from his presence. " Now," they ex- 
claimed, '' we shall be led to face our foes in 
the open field ; no longer doomed to rot in 
camp, while the council is swayed by con- 
tradictory opinions." But a heavy gloom sat 
on the secret soul of the adventurer. From 
the Earl of Mar he had by this time learned 
the disastrous condition of his party. He 
seemed to see the bright bayonets of Argyle's 
soldiers already gathering around him, and 



I 



DESPONDENCY. 219 

to hear the blare of their trumpets sTimmon- 
ing Perth, his last stronghold, to surrender. 
The painful truth was evident : — Perth must 
be abandoned, and a guerilla warfare carried 
on in the Highlands, or the army — if a mass 
of men lacking cohesion and discipline could 
be called an army — dispersed to their res- 
pective districts. What counsel or comfort 
could the Prince offer to his adherents ? He 
could only tell them that he had joined in 
their enterprise lest those who were laggards 
in their duty should plead his conduct as an 
excuse. For himself, he said, he had been 
cradled in sorrow and bred in misfortune, and 
he was ready, if it pleased God, to endure 
whatever the malice of his enemies might in- 
flict upon him. This was not the language 
of a king coming to claim his crown from a 
loyal people, and contrasted strangely with 
the confident tone in which the court of St. 
Germains had been wont to indulge. 

xiv. On the 5th of January the Prince made 
his public entry into Dundee, attended by a 
train of three hundred mounted gentlemen, 
and greeted by the acclamations of the 
populace, who surrounded him in the market 

L 2 



220 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

place, and pressed forward to kiss his hand. 
On the 8th lie arrived at Scoon, the ancient 
palace of the Scottish Kings, — gray with 
the memories of a thousand years, — and on 
the following day, he visited Perth. Eeturn- 
ing to Scoon, he took up his residence in the 
old feudal stronghold until the 20th, when 
the rapid approach of Argyle with a numerous 
and well-disciplined army compelled his im- 
mediate retreat. It is said that when these 
tidings reached him he broke into a passion 
of tears, and reproached his followers with 
having brought him to a grave instead of a 
crown 5 a weakness, which, when related to 
Prince Eugene, induced the sarcastic observa- 
tion — '' Weeping is not the way to conquer 
Kingdoms." The person and demeanour of 
James Edward at this crisis have been 
vividly depicted by an eye-witness and a 
partisan. He was tall and thin, he says, and 
evincing a pre- disposition to grow thinner as 
he advanced in years. '' His countenance 
was pale, yet he seemed to be sanguine in his 
constitution, and had something of a vivacity 
in his eye that perhaps would have been 
more visible if he had not been under de- 
jected circumstances; which, it must be 



ACCOUNT OF AN EYE-WITNESS. 221 

acknowledged, were sufficient to alter tlie 
complexion of his soul as well as Ms 
body. . . . We saw nothing in him that 
looked like spirit. He never appeared with 
cheerfulness and vigour to animate us. Our 
men began to despise him ; some asked if he 
could speak. His countenance looked ex- 
tremelj heavy. He cared not to come abroad 
amongst us soldiers, or to see us handle our 
arms or do our exercise."* Such was not 
the man to infuse the spirit of success into a 
desperate enterprise, or to bind fortune with 
chains of gold to his cause. He was better 
fitted to lose a crown than to win one ; and 
to figure in the mimic pageantry of St. 
Germains than to lead the forlorn hope of a 
difficult adventure. 

XV. On the 30th of Jany. — a fatal day in the 
annals of the house of Stuart, the Chevalier 
and his Highlanders commenced their retreat, 
crossing the Tay, and winding through the 
Carse of Gowrie to Dundee. From thence 
he made his way to Montrose, where, after 
some natural hesitation, he embarked on 
board a small French vessel which happened 
to be lying in the harbour, accompanied by 

* A true Account of tke Proceedings at Perth. 



222 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

the Earl of Mar, tlie Earl of Milford, Lord 
Drummond, Lieutenant-General Buckley, and 
thirteen persons of distinction. To avoid the 
English cruisers his ship first made for the 
Coast of Norway ; and then hugging closely 
the shores of Holland and Germany, arrived, 
after a few days' voyage, at Gravelines, 
between Dunkirk and Calais. Thus, this 
most chivalrous Prince abandoned to the 
mercies of the English government, the faith- 
ful partisans who had endured so much in 
the fond hope of seating him on the ancient 
throne of his race. When they found them- 
selves so shamefully deserted, many of them 
flung away their arms, and breaking up into 
different bodies, they dispersed among the 
mountains, each clan as rapidly as possible 
seeking the shelter of its own inaccessible 
glen. Such was the impotent conclusion of 
the enterprise of 1715. 



III. 



CLOSING SCENES. 

i. Almost the first act of the Chevalier on hid 
return to St. Germains was to dismiss the Se- 



LIFE AT ROME. 223 

cretary of State, Lord Boliagbroke, the onlj 
man about him — ^brilliant and shallow Pre- 
tender as he was — who possessed more than 
ordinary capacity, or had any experience of 
state affairs. The cause of this sudden and 
impolitic step is supposed to have been Boling- 
broke' s freedom of speech, which manifested 
itself at the expense of James and his cour- 
tiers ; and, indeed, the gay and versatile St. 
John must have found ample food for his sa- 
tiric fancy in the absurd and ludicrous preten- 
sions of the female coterie which surrounded 
the Chevalier. 

ii. After a brief stay in the neighbourhood of 
Paris, the heir of the Stuarts retired to Avig- 
non, at the urgent instigation of the French 
Court. From thence he withdrew to Rome, 
where the Pope distinguished him with marked 
courtesy. His manner of life, however, hardly 
entitled him to the approbation of the Father 
of the Church, and disgusted his most trusty 
friends. Like his father, he maintained a 
bevy of mistresses, while he observed the 
ceremonies of the Church with a slavish punc- 
tilio ; alternating, with characteristic facility, 
between the allurements of sin and the sack- 
cloth and ashes of penitence. By these frail 



224 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

beauties he was swayed from one impulse to 
another, abandoning decision upon decision 
with shameful rapidity, and constant only in 
his devotion to the wine cup and the mass. 
The pleasures of the night were redeemed by 
the devotions of the morning, and the atten- 
tion he paid to his mistresses was only ex- 
ceeded by the servility he displayed towards 
his priests. 

iii. In actual life, as well as in the mimic life 
of fiction, the opinion sometimes prevails that 
the most effectual cure for the excesses of a 
profligate is the discipline of marriage. That 
such may be the case where those excesses are 
the outburst of a hot and passionate tempera- 
ment, of veins glowing with the inspiration 
of youth, and of an imagination stirred by the 
first fond whispers of love and poetry, we are 
willing to believe ; but not when the mind is 
habituated to voluptuousness, and pleasure 
has become the daily occupation of a jaded 
fancy and a narrow intellect. The friends of 
the Chevalier ventured upon the experiment, 
and selected for the victim the fair and amia- 
ble wearer of an illustrious name — the Princess 
Clementina Maria Sobieski — the grand- 
daughter of that famous king of Poland who 




c 



24ay ^^^iiayl/y. 



THE PEINCESS SOBIESKI. 225 

drove the Turks out of Christendom and res- 
cued Vienna from the standard of the Crescent. 
The Princess was in her 17th year, and en- 
dowed with the attractions of a beautiful per- 
son and a graceful mind. From an early age 
she had manifested a peculiar interest in the 
romantic history of the Stuarts — a history 
which has charmed the imaginations and spell- 
bound the judgment of graver personages than 
a susceptible girl — and was fond of being 
styled by her play- fellows the Queen of Eng- 
land. When, therefore, the ministers of 
James proposed the alliance to her parents, 
both she and they eagerly yielded their as- 
sent, and the only difficulty to be conquered 
was the hostility of the English government, 
who were naturally unwilling that the line of 
the Stuarts should be perpetuated by marriage. 
As the Princess and her mother passed through 
the Tyrol, on their way to Italy, they per- 
suaded the Austrian authorities to seize them, 
and confine them in a convent at Innspruck, 
whence they only obtained their release by a 
dangerous stratagem. But arriving at Bologna 
in safety, the Princess was there married 
by proxy on the 28th of May, 1719, the 

L 5 



226 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

Chevalier, her husband, at the time being 
absent at Madrid. 

iv. The Princess bore him two sons, Charles 
Edward, the hero of the '45, and Henrj, af- • 
wards Cardinal York. She soon learned to 
deplore the fate which had united her to a ; 
selfish voluptuary. Wounded by his indif- I 
ference, and disgusted by his infidelities, she ' 
separated from him in 1725, but at the instance 
of the Pope, public scandal was avoided by a 
formal reconciliation ; and under the same 
roof as the Prince, the unfortunate daughter 
of Poland dragged out a weary and misera- 
ble life, relieved only by the consolations of 
religion, until her death on the 18th of 
January, 1765. I 

V. In 1718 the Chevalier's prospects tempo- 
rarily brightened under the encouragement 
of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, who con- 
templated an expedition against England for 
the recovery of the exile's throne, but the wild 
dream — it was scarcely anything better — was 
terminated at Frederickshall, where a chance 
shot cut short the career of the madman of 
the North. The project was again revived 
by Alberoni, the powerful and astute minister 
of Spain, who invited the Prince to Madrid, 



A STU art's disaster. 227 

and received him witli all the honours usually 
paid to a crowned head. He also caused a 
formidable armament to be equipped at Cadiz, 
consisting of ten ships of war and transports, 
having on board six thousand regular troops, 
with arms for twelve thousand men, and bes- 
towed the command on the Duke of Ormond, 
with the title of Captain-General of His Most 
Catholic Majesty. But the Fates never 
smiled upon these Stuart expeditions. The 
gallant armada, off Cape Finisterre, was buf- 
feted by a terrible storm, which endured for 
eight and forty hours, and so shattered yards, 
and masts, and rigging, that most of the ships 
were compelled to return to port. Only two 
frigates arrived in Scotland, and disembarked 
at the island of Lewis the Earls Marischal 
and Seaforth, the Marquis Tullibardine, some 
field officers, three hundred men, and arms for 
two thousand men. Joined by a few hundred 
Highlanders the desperate adventurers crossed 
into Kintail ; were met by a body of regular 
troops,under General Wightman, in the valley 
of Glenshiel ; and after an undecisive skirmish, 
surrendered at discretion, the Highlanders, 
like mist before the sun, dispersing into their 
glens and mountain fortresses. 



228 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

vi. With this mortifying catastrophe termi- 
nated, for a quarter of a century, the attempts 
of the Stuarts to recover the throne of Great 
Britain, and the Chevalier abandoned his 
dreams of royalty until the spirit and enthu- 
siasm of his son Charles Edward once more 
aroused his ambition and excited his hopes. 
With the exception of the episode of the ^45 
— which we shall chronicle in the following 
chapter— the remainder of the lengthened 
career of Prince James was passed in 
luxurious inaction. Two of the ablest letter- 
writers of the eighteenth century have left 
on record a graphic picture of him and his 
position, which does not tend to exalt our 
opinion of this dullest of the Stuarts. Gray 
writes in 1740, in the following epigrammatic 
manner : — '' At a great ball given by Count 
Patrizii to the Prince and Princess Craon, at 
which he and his two sons were present. 
They are good firm boys, especially the 
younger, who has the more spirit of the two ; 
and both danced incessantly all night long. 
For him, he is a thin, ill-made man, extremely 
tall and awkward, of a most unpromising 
countenance, a good deal resembling king 
James II., and has extremely the air and 



HORACE WALPOLe's SKETCH. 229 

look of an idiot, particularly wlien lie laughs 
or prays ; the first he does not do often, the 
latter continually.'^ 

vii. Horace Walpole, in 1752, observes: — - 
"The Chevalier de St. G-eorgeis tall, meagre, 
and melancholy in his aspect ; enthusiasm and 
disappointment have stamped a solemnity ou 
his person, which rather creates pity than 
respect. He seems the phantom which good- 
nature, divested of reflection, conjures up, 
when we think of the misfortunes, without 
the demerits, of Charles I. Without the 
particular features of any Stuart, the Cheva- 
lier has the strong lines and fatality of air 
peculiar to them all. At Eome, where to be 
a good Eoman Catholic it is by no means 
necessary to be very religious, they have little 
esteem for him ; but it was his ill-treatment 
of the Princess Sobieski, his wife, that origi- 
nally disgusted the Papal court. She who, 
to zeal for Popery, had united all its policy — 
who was lively, insinuating, agreeable, and 
enterprising — was promptly supported by 
that court when she could no longer endure 
the mortifications that were offered to her 
by Hay and his wife, the titular Countess of 



230 JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 

Inverness, to whom the Chevalier had entirely 
resigned himself. The Pretender retired to 
Bologna, but was obliged to sacrifice his 
favourites before he could re-establish himself 
at Rome. The most apparent merit of the 
Chevalier's court is, the great regularity of 
his finance and the economy of his exchequer. 
His income before the rebellion was £25,000, 
arising chiefly from pensions from the Pope 
and from Spain ; from contributions from 
England, and some irregular donations from 
other courts ; yet his payments were not only 
most exact, but he had -saved a large sum 
of money, which was squandered on the 
unfortunate attempt in Scotland. 

viii. Mr. Jesse, quoting from Keysler, fur- 

1 nishes us with a third and later sketch (A.D. 

' 1756) : — " The figure made by the Pretender 

is in every way mean and unbecoming. The 
Pope has issued an order that all his subjects 
should style him King of England ; but the 
Italians make a jest of this, for they term 
him "The local King," or, "King here,'' 

\ while the real possessor is styled " The King 

there,'' that is, in England. He has an annual 
income of 12,000 scudi, or crowns, from the 



HIS CHARACTER. 231 

Pope ; and though he may receive as much 
more from his adherents in England, it is far 
from him to keep up the state of a sovereign 
prince. He is very fond of seeing his image 
struck on medals ; and if kingdoms were to 
be obtained by tears, which he shed plenti- 
fully at the miscarriage of his attempts in 
Scotland, he would have found the medallists 
work enough. He generally goes abroad 
in three coaches, and his household consists 
of about forty persons. He lately assumed 
some authority at the opera by calling encore 
when a song that pleased him was performed ; 
but it was not till after a long pause that his 
order was obeyed. He never before affected 
the least power. At his coming into an 
assembly, no English Protestant rises up, 
and even the Roman Catholics pay him the 
compliment in a very superficial manner. 
His pusillanimity, and the licentiousness of 
his amours, have lessened him in everybody's 
esteem.'' 

xi. The closing years of the Chevalier's life 
were clouded with the gloom of many infir- 
mities, which rendered him a close prisoner 
in his bed chamber. He outlived the influ- 



232 



JAMES FREDERICK STUART. 



\ 



ence and credit of his race, and died at Eome, 
in his 79th year, on the 12th of January, 
1766. His funeral was conducted with regal 
pomp, and his body, after lying in state for 
several days, was interred in the famous church 
of St. Peter's. 



CHAPTEE V. 



PRINCE CHARLES EDWARD, " THE PRETENDER.'' 



[Authorities: — Earl Stanhope's History of England from the 
Peace of Utrecht; Horace Walpole's Correspondence; The 
Culloden Papers ; Home's History of the Rebellion ; Chambers' 
History of the Rebellion of 1745 ; Tindal's History of England; 
Coxe's Life of Sir Robert Walpole ; the Lockhart Papers j 
Jesse's Memoirs of the Pretenders, etc., etc.] 




CHAPTER V. 



PRINCE CHARLES EDWARD STUART, 
GRANDSON OF JAMES II., 
COMMONLY CALLED " THE PRETENDER.'' 



•' I once had sons, but now hae nane, 

I bred them toiling sairly ; 
And I wad bear them a' again, 

And lose them a' for Charlie." 

Scotch Ballad. 

" Oh ! better loved he canna be, 

Yet, when we see him wearing 
Our Hieland garb sae gracefully, 

'Tis aye the mair endearing. 

Though a' that now adorns his brow 

Be but a simple bonnet ; 
Ere lang we'll see, of kingdoms three, 

The royal crown upon it." 

Jacobite Song. 

i. Charles Edward Louis Philip Casimir 
Stuart, known in Englisli annals as "the 
Young Pretender," — the eldest son of 
Prince James Frederick and Clementina 



236 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

Maria, daughter of Prince Sobieski, eldest 
son of John, King of Poland, — was born at 
Eome, on the 20th of September, 1720. But 
few particulars have been preserved of his 
early years or educational training. Though 
he undoubtedly gave indications of consider- 
able ability, little care seems to have been 
taken in reference to its development or cul- 
tivation. His preceptor was Sir Thomas 
Sheridan, an Irish Eoman Catholic, whom 
history has unjustly suspected of having been 
bribed by the British government to betray his 
trust, but who may more righteously be accused 
of a criminal negligence of his responsibilities 
towards his pupil. Under his supervision 
the Prince learned nothing of the laws and 
annals of the kingdom he was taught to regard 
as his future heritage, and had thus no oppor- 
tunity of profiting by the example of his pre- 
decessors. He spelt ill, he wrote carelessly. 
" Umer '^ does duty in his letters for humour^ 
and the name of his father is mutilated into 
''Gems.'' Neither of his own nor of the 
French language does he appear to have ac- 
quired more than a superficial knowledge. 
But his talents were considerable ; his energy 
of character markedly contrasted with the 



HIS EARLY YEARS. 237 

jlethargy of his father's disposition ; his reso- 
lution almost degenerated into invincible ob- 
stinacy; and he possessed a peculiar fasci- 
nation of manner, which spell-bound all who 
came within the sphere of its influence. The 
faults of his character were mainlv the results 
of injudicious training; his virtues were all 
his own. His warmth of heart, and the 
strength of his friendships, were not the quali- 
ties of the Stuarts, but derived, perhaps, from 
that chivalrous Polish stock of which his ill- 
fated mother was a scion. 

ii. His military experience began in his 
15th year, when he earned more than ordi- 
nary distinction at the Siege of Gaeta, 
under the famous Duke of Berwick. His 
coolness under fire extorted from that able 
general no unqualified eulogium : — '^ This 
prince discovers,'' wrote the Duke, " that in 
great princes, whom Nature has marked out 
for heroes, valour does not wait the number 
of years. I joyfully indulge myself in the 
pleasure of seeing the prince adored by 
officers and soldiers. His manner and con- 
versation are really bewitching." He con- 
tinued with the Spanish army until the Duke 
was slain at the siege of Philipsburg. 



238 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

iii. His next appearance in arms was in the 
year 1743, where he joined the French armj 
under the Due de Noailles. He served 
gallantly at the Battle of Dettingen, where 
the English followed the leadership of their 
brave and sturdy king, George the Second, 
and he fully emulated the courageous con- 
duct of his fortunate rival. But a bolder 
enterprise summoned him to more important 
battle-fields, and the ardent hopes of the 
Stuart faction called him to contend for the 
crown which had been lost by his grand- 
father's errors and obstinacy. For this pur- 
pose, 15,000 veterans, under the Marshal de 
Saxe, were encamped at Dunkirk ; a large 
number of transports collected in the 
Channel ; and a fleet of eighteen sail of the 
line for their convoy assembled at Brest and 
Eochefort. Charles was invited by the 
French government to take the command of 
this expedition, and his father appointed him 
Eegent, with full power to administer the 
government of the United Kingdom during 
his absence. 

iv. He took leave of his father on the 9 th 
of January, 1744, with a heart animated by 
youthful ardour and dazzling hopes. " I 



A DANGEROUS JOURNEY. 239 

trust, by the aid of God," he exclaimed, 
*' that I shall soon be able to lay the crowns 
at your Majesty's feet/' " Be careful of 
yourself," replied the Chevalier, "for T would 
not lose you for all the crowns in the world." 
Having obtained the necessary passports from 
Cardinal Aquaviva, he caused it to be noised 
abroad that he was proceeding on a hunting 
expedition. Then, assuming the disguise of a 
Spanish courier, and attended by only one 
servant, who personated a Spanish secretary, 
he travelled through Tuscany and Genoa to 
Savona, where he embarked on board a 
small ship, and passed through the British 
fleet unsuspected. Landing at Antibes, he 
travelled post to Paris, reaching the capital 
within twelve days of his departure from 
Rome. He remained there but a short 
period, for the French court seemed to have 
relinquished its design against England, and 
he was not even admitted to the royal pre- 
sence. At Gravelines he next took up his 
residence, from its proximity to the starting- 
point of the projected expedition, and lived 
there in great privacy under the name of the 
Chevalier Douglas, with only Bohaldie, his 
secretary, in attendance upon him. " The 



240 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

situation I am in," he wrote to liis father, " is 
very particular, for nobody knows where I am, 
or what has become of me ; so that I am en- 
tirely buried as to the public, and cannot but 
say that it is a very great constraint upon me, 
for I am obliged verj often not to stir out of 
my room for fear of somebody's noting my 
face. I very often think that you would 
laugh very heartily, ii you saw me going 
about with a single servant, buying fish and 
other things, and squabbling for a penny 
more or less! Everybody is wondering 
where the prince is ; some put bim in one 
place, and some in another, but nobody 
knows where he is really ; and sometimes he 
is told news of hirnself to his face, which is 
very diverting." 

V. While he Avas thus secluded at Grave- 
lines, the French squadrons had sailed from 
Brest and Eochefort, and under the flag of 
Admiral Eoquefeuille, sailed up the British 
Channel. They served to amuse the British fleet 
(under Sir John Norris, an officer of courage 
and experience, whose enterprise had been 
damped by age,) while Marshal Saxe embarked 
seven thousand veteran soldiers at Dunkirk, 
and, accompanied by the prince, sailed for the 



A FAILURE. 241 

English coast. The Hanoverian dynasty had 
nowhere such admirable allies as the elements. 
A terrible tempest scattered the transports^ 
wrecked several of them, and constrained the 
others to put back into port shattered and dis- 
abled. The French ministry, never very 
warm in promoting the expedition, availed 
themselves of this disaster as a pretence for 
relinquishing it, withdrew their troops from 
Dunkirk, and appointed the Marshal de Lane 
to the command of the army in Flanders. 

The Prince, in his disappointment at the 
failure of an enterprise from which he had 
expected so much both of profit and renown, 
proposed to his stout partisan, the Earl 
Marischal, to engage a small fishing vessel^ 
and fling himself upon the Scottish coast ; and 
when the Earl pointed out the folly of such a 
project, expressed a desire to enter the French 
army, and share in the glories of the ap- 
proaching campaign. But the Earl also showed 
that such a step would enlist against him the 
patriotic sympathies of the people he aspired 
to govern, and accordingly he was forced to 
spend the next fifteen months in comparative 
inaction. He resided in or near Paris, carry- 

VOL. II. M 



242 CHAELES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

ing on an incessant correspondence with his 
Scottish adherents, and enduring in silence 
the rebuffs and reprimands of the French 
court. From Scotland his friends wrote to 
him that they could do nothing for his cause 
unless he brought them 6,000 men and 10,000 
stand of arms. He found himself, therefore, 
constrained to rely upon his own resources. 
Observing that the French war had nearly 
drained England of troops, and that its gov- 
ernment had relaxed in its vigilance against 
schemes of invasion, wearied of an inglorious 
tranquillity, and burning for distinction in the 
field, Charles at length resolved upon an 
attempt as desperate as it was heroic. He 
exerted himself on every side to procure a 
supply of arms ; he raised money from his 
adherents to defray the expenses of an ex- 
pedition ; and without acquainting his father 
of his real object, requested him to pawn his 
jewels and forward without delay the sum 
they fetched. " I wish you would pawn all 
my jewels,'' he wrote; " for on this side the 
water I should wear them with a very sore 
heart, thinking that there might be made a 
better use of them.*' He had obtained from 
a Parisian banker, named Waters, a loan of 



PREPARATIONS. 243 

120,000 livres, with which he purchased 20 
field pieces, eighteen hundred broad swords, 
1500 fusees, and a store of flints, balls, and 
gunpowder. A merchant of Nantes, named 
Walsh, undertook to transport him and his 
suite to Scotland in a fast 18-gun brig, La Dou- 
telle, which had been fitted out to operate 
against the British traders ; and the French 
government in a surreptitious manner provided 
him with the convoy of a 6 8 -gun ship, the 
Elizabeth, under orders ostensibly to cruize 
upon the coast of Scotland, but with secret 
instructions to lend the Prince as much assis- 
tance as could clandestinely be afforded. 

vi. The Prince was now residing at the 
Chateau de Navarre, near Evreux, from 
whence he addressed his father on the 12th 
of June, in a letter which, for the first time, 
revealed the audacious project he had 
conceived: — 

"I believe your Majesty," he wrote, "little 
expected a courier at this time, and much 
less from me, to tell you a thing that will be 
a great surprise to you. I have been, above 
six months ago, invited by our friends to go 
to Scotland, and to carry what money and 

M 2 



244 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

arms I could conveniently get ; this being, 
they are fully persuaded, the only way of 
restoring you to the crown, and them to 
their liberties. 

" After such scandalous usage as T have 
received from the French court, had I not 
given my word to do so, or got as many 
encouragements from time to time as I have 
had, I should have been obliged, in honour 
and for my reputation, to have flung myself 
into the arms of my friends, and die with them, 
rather than live longer in such a miserable 
way here, or be obliged to return to Rome, 
which would be just giving up all hopes. I 
cannot but mention a parable here, which is 
— a horse that is to be sold, if spurred, it does 
not skip, or show some sign of life, nobody 
would come to have him, even for nothing ; 
just so my friends would care very little to 
have me, if, after such usage, which all the 
world is sensible of, I should not show that 
I have life in me. Your Majesty cannot dis- 
approve a son^s following the example of his 
father. You yourself did the like in the 
year '15 ; but the circumstances, indeed, 
are now very different, by being much more 



LETTER TO THE CHEVALIER. 245 

encouraging, there being a certainty of suc- 
ceeding with the least help. 

" Let what will happen, the stroke is 
struck, and I have taken a firm resolution to 
conquer or to die, and stand my grounds as 
long as I shall have a man remaining with 
me. 

" I should think it proper (if your Majesty 
pleases) to be put at his Holiness^ s feet, 
asking his blessing on this occasion; but 
what I chiefly ask is your own, which I hope 
will procure me that of God Almighty, upon 
my endeavours to serve you, my family, and 
my country, which will ever be the only 
view of 

" Your Majesty's most dutiful son, 
"Charles P.'^ 

vii. Charles's attendants on this hazardous 
expedition were not unworthy of it, as most 
of them had much to gain by success, and 
little to lose by failure. The Marquis of 
TuUibardine, who had already shared in the 
rebellion of 1715, and been deprived of his 
inheritance of the title and estates of the 
dukedom of Athol; Sir Thomas Sheridan, 
who had been the Prince's tutor; Sir John 
Macdonald, an officer in the Spanish service ; 



246 CHARLES EDWAKD, THE PRETENDER. 

Mr. Kellj, an Englisli clergyman, who had 
been many years imprisoned in the Tower, 
on suspicion of having been implicated in the 
plot of Atterbury, Bishop of Eochester; 
O' Sullivan, an Irish officer in the service of 
France; Francis Strickland, an English 
gentlemen ; and ^neas Macdonald, a banker 
in Paris, and younger brother of Macdonald 
of Kinlochmordart. With this extraordinary 
band of partisans, the Prince embarked on 
board the Doutelle, at St. Nazaire, at the 
mouth of the Loire, on the 22nd of June, 
and sailed for Belleisle, where, after a delay 
of several days, they were joined by the 
Elizabeth. The expedition then set sail, but 
on the fourth day after their departure the 
Elizabeth was descried and attacked by the 
British man-of-war. Lion, of 58 guns, com- 
manded by Captain Brett, one of Anson's 
most trusty lieutenants. Despite the dis- 
parity of the force, the British continued 
the engagement for nearly six hours, and 
each ship was so disabled as to be compelled 
to return to their respective ports. During 
the conflict the Doutelle had kept aloof, not- 
withstanding the earnest entreaties of the 
Prince, who longed to flesh his sword against 



A GOOD OMEN. 247 

his father's rebellious subjects. But Walsh, 
the owner of the vessel, perceiving that the 
success of the expedition might be periled 
upon an unworthy issue, informed the Prince 
that unless he ceased his importunities he 
should be compelled to order him to retire to 
his cabin. The Doutelle accordingly pro- 
ceeded on her voyage alone, but by the 
return of the Elizabeth Charles lost the 
greater portion of his arms and military stores. 
On approaching the Hebrides, a large eagle 
from her eyrie in the neighbouring mountains 
hovered about the adventurer's vessel. "Ac- 
cept it,'' said the Marquis of Tullibardine, 
'* as a good omen, which promises favourable 
things for us. The king of birds has come 
to welcome your Eoyal Highness upon your 
arrival in Scotland !" 

viii. The Doutelle disembarked her pas- 
sengers, on the 18th of July, upon the small 
island of Erisca, situated between the islands 
of Barra and South Uist. Its proprietor was 
Macdonald of Clanranald, but as he was 
known to be entirely guided by the counsels 
of his younger brother, Alexander Macdonald 
of Boisdale, the Prince resolved to address 
the latter, in the first instance, and induce 



248 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

Mm to exert his influence with his chieftain 
to raise the clan in his behalf. A messenger 
was therefore despatched to Boisdale, who 
immediately obeyed the summons ; but not 
as an enthusiastic partisan ; on the contrary, 
he urged the Prince to abandon an enterprise 
which would only result in ruin, and plainly 
stated that he should feel it his duty to dis- 
suade Clanranald from embarking in so wild 
and desperate a project. Deeply mortified 
by the result of the interview, Charles pur- 
sued his voyage to the mainland, and, on the 
19th July, entered the bay of Lochnanuagh, 
in Invernesshire, on the dreary coast between 
Moidart and Arisaig. Here he summoned to 
his side the younger Macdonald of Clanranald, 
who appeared in company with Macdonald 
of Kinlochmoidart, and others of his clan. 
The Prince found him as insensible to his ar- 
guments as his uncle, the phlegmatic Boisdale. 
To take up arms without concert or support 
could only result in the ruin of all their 
hopes. Charles persisted in his arguments 
and entreaties. " During the conversa- 
tion," says Earl Stanhope, " they walked 
to and fro upon the deck ; while a High- 
lander stood near them, armed at all points> 



TWO ADHERENTS. 249 

as was then the custom of the country ; he 
was a younger brother of Kinlochmoidart, 
and had come to the ship without knowing 
who was on board of it; but when he 
gathered from the discourse that the stranger 
was the Prince of Wales, and when he heard 
his chief and his brother refuse to take arms 
with their rightful sovereign, as they believed 
him, his colour went and came, his eyes 
sparkled, he shifted his place, and instinc- 
tively grasped his sword. Charles observed 
his agitation, and with great skill availed 
himself of it. Turning suddenly towards 
him, he called out — '' Will you, at least, not 
assist me T '' I will ! I will !" cried Eonald. 
" Though no other man in the Highlands 
should draw a sword, I am ready to die for 
you !'' Charles eagerly expressed his thanks 
to the warm-hearted young man, saying he 
wished that all the Highlanders were like 
him. But, in very truth, they were like him; 
catching his enthusiasm, and spurning all 
further deliberations, the two Macdonalds 
declared that they also would join, and use 
every exertion to engage their countrymen, 
ix. A few days later Charles landed, for 

M 5 



250 CHAELES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

the first time, on the mainland of Scotland, 
selecting as the point of disembarcation a 
small farm called Borodaile, lying at the 
mouth of a mountainous defile in Inverness- 
shire. For a brief period he kept at the 
farm house his small but martial court, every 
member of which was animated by feelings 
that would have done no dishonour to the 
most chivalrous knights of the palmy days of 
chivalry. It was here that the famous inter- 
view took place between himself and the 
gallant Lochiel, without whose support it 
would have been useless for him to have 
carried out his enterprise, and without whom 
no Highland chieftain would have joined his 
banner, had he charmed ever so wisely. 
Lochiel repaired to the Prince's court in the 
firm conviction that the enterprise was des- 
perate and unjustifiable. On his way he fell 
in with his brother, Cameron of Fassefern, 
who held the same opinion, and advised 
Lochiel to content himself with communi- 
cating it to the prince by letter. " I know 
you,'' said Fassefern, "better than you know 
yourself. If this Prince once sets his eyes 
upon you, he will make you do whatever he 



THE LOYAL LOCHIEL. 251 

pleases." Lochiel, however, was confident 
of his superior firmness, and, indeed, for a 
long time resisted bravely the influence of 
the princess manners, and the force of his 
arguments. Charles, with that intuitive 
perception of a man's character which 
specially distinguished him, desisted at 
last from appealing to his reason, and 
addressed his passions. " I am resolved," 
he exclaimed, " to put all to the hazard. 
In a few days I will erect the loyal Stan- 
dard, and proclaim to the people of Britain, 
that Charles Stuart is come over to claim 
the crown of his ancestors, or perish in 
the attempt. Lochiel, who my father has 
often told me was our firmest friend, may 
stay at home, and learn from the newspapers 
the fate of his Prince/' " Nay," exclaimed 
the chieftain, carried away by a whirlwind of 
emotion, " I will share the fate of my Prince, 
whatever it may be, and so shall every man 
over whom nature or fortune has given me 
the power." And such, according to Home, 
was the conversation on which depended the 
fate of the rebellion of the '45. Happy had 
it been for Scotland if Lochiel had turned a 
deaf ear to the impassioned pleading of his 



252 CHARLES EDWAED, THE PRETENDER. 

Prince, and her annals escaped the bloody 
stain of Drumossie Moor ! 

X. There were many of the Highland chief- 
tains unaffected by this enthusiasm of loyalty, 
but the majority eagerly drew their swords 
for the cause of the House of Stuart, and 
when the Prince raised his standard at Glen- 
fillan, on the 19th of August, it was with an 
assurance of coming success that made his 
heart throb blithely. The banner of red 
silk, with a white space in the centre, which 
was blazoned a few weeks later with the 
boastful legend. Tandem Triumphans^ was 
unfurled by the venerable Marquis of Tulli- 
bardine, and as the mountain breeze filled 
out its sheeny folds, the assembled clans sent 
up a shout which reverberated like the echo 
of thunder among the distant hills, and flung 
their bonnets in the air until it seemed to 
darken with a cloud. The manifesto of James 
the Third was then read aloud, and the Prince 
addressed his followers in a brief but animated 
speech. Shortly afterwards, Keppoch arrived 
with three hundred of his clan, and, within 
a few hours, the adventurer's little army was 
swollen to the numbers of 1,600 or 1,700 men. 

xi. The "raising of the Standard" in the 



THE RAISING OF THE STANDARD. 253 

picturesque valley of Glenfinnan has been 
worthily sung by Scotland's most chivalrous 
poet, the "Ariosto of the North," — Sir 
Walter Scott, — in noble verse, which the 
reader, however familiar with it, will not be 
displeased to read again, and yet again : — 

" The dark hours of night and of slumber are past ; 
And morn on our mountains is dawning at last ; 
Glenaldale's peaks are illumed with the rays, 
And the streams of Glenfinnan leap bright in the blaze. 

" high-minded Moray ! — the exiled — the dear I — 
In the blush of the dawning the standard uprear ! 
Wide, wide on the winds of the North let it fly, 
Like the sun's latest flash when the tempest is nigh. 

'* Ye sons of the strong, when that dawning shall break, 
Need the harp of the aged remind you to wake ? 
That dawn never beamed on your forefather's eye. 
But it roused each high chieftain to vanquish or die. 

•* sprung from the kings who in Islay kept state, 
Proud chiefs of Clanranald, Glengary, and Sleat, 
Combine with three streams from one mountain of snow, 
And resistless in union rush down on the foe ! 

" True son of St. Evan, undaunted Lochiel, 
Place thy targe on thy shoulder, and burnish thy steel ! 
Rough Keppoch, give breath to thy bugle's bold swell, 
Till far Corryarrack resound to the knell ! 

" Stern son of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kintail, 
Let the stag in thy standard bound wild in the gale I 
May the race of Clan- Gillian, the fearless and free, 
Remember Glenlivat, Harlaw, and Dundee I 

" Let the clan of grey Fingon, whose offspring has given 
Such heroes to earth, and such martyrs to heaven, 
Unite with the race of renowned Rorri More, 
To launch the long galley, and stretch to the oar 1 



254 CHARLES EDWARD, THE RRETENDER. 

" How Mac Shiemie will joy when their chief shall display 
The yew-crested bonnet o'er tresses of grey 1 
How the race of wronged Alpine, and murdered Glencoe, 
Shall shout for revenge when they pour on the foe 1 

" Ye sons of brown Dermid who slew the wild-boar, 
Resume the pure faith of the great Callum-More 1 
Mac-Niel of the Islands, and Moy of the Lake, 
For honour, for freedom, for vengeance awake. 

" Awake on your hills, on your islands awake, 
Brave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the lake I 
'Tis the bugle ! — but not for the chase is the call ; 
'Tis the pibroch's shrill summons — but not to the hall 1 

" 'Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death, 
When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath ; 
They call to the dirk, the claymore, and the targe, 
To the march and the muster, the line and the charge 1 

" To the brand of each chieftain, like Fin's i n his ire. 
May the blood through his veins flow like torrents of fire ! 
Burst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of yore, 
Or die like your sires, and endure it no more I" 

xii. Leaving Prince Charles and his ad- 
herents to rejoice in their hopeful confidence 
of a triumphant enterprise, we turn to inquire 
what measures the Established Government 
were adopting to crush the rebellion which 
assumed such formidable proportions. They 
were neither well-conceived nor well-ex- 
ecuted, nor were the men then in authority in 
Scotland capable of appreciating the nature 
of the crisis with which they had to contend. 



MEN IN AUTHORITY. 255 

Charles's departure from Nantes was not 
even known in Edinburgh until fully three 
weeks after his appearance on the Scottish 
coast ! The commander-in-chief, Sir John 
Cope, was a gallant soldier, but an incom- 
petent general; devoted to his duty, but 
without the nerve, the pluck, and the fore- 
sight which enable a man to grasp an unex- 
pected responsibility. The Lord Justice 
Clerk was Andrew Fletcher, Lord Milton ; the 
Lord President, Duncan Forbes, a statesman 
whom no Scotchman names without affection 
and no Englishman without honour. Loyal 
to the Hanoverian government, which he 
identified with the cause of civil freedom and 
religious tolerance, his exertions mainly con- 
tributed to restrain the Highland rebellion 
within manageable limits, and when it was 
crushed, it was Ms voice which was always 
uplifted on the side of mercy and compassion. 
'' Opposing the Jacobites in their conspiracies 
or rebellions, but befriending them in their 
adversity and their distresses, he knew, unlike 
his colleagues, how to temper justice with 
mercy, and at length offended by his frank- 
ness the Government he had upheld by his 
exertions.'' But it was not upon this wise 



256 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

and patriotic minister that the burden of the 
present crisis rested. 

xiii. As soon as the authorities of Edin- 
burgh could be convinced that the Pretender 
had actually landed, and was assembling a 
considerable military force, Sir John Cope 
drew together his troops at Stirling, and leav- 
ing behind him his dragoons, who could be of 
no service in Highland warfare, advanced at 
the head of 1500 men towards Fort Augustus, 
as a central position, from whence he might 
aim a crushing blow at the rebellion. It was 
upon arriving at Dalwhinnie that he first 
obtained any certain information as to Prince 
Charles's movements, and learned that he 
had seized the important pass of Corry Ar- 
rack, which lay between him and Fort Au- 
gustus. Corry Arrack is a lofty and precipi- 
tous mountain, ascended by a part of Marshal 
Wade's famous military road, which climbs 
its rugged acclivity in seventeen traverses or 
zigzags, popularly known as The DeviFs 
Staircase, and affords an admirable strategical 
position for a defensive force. To attack the 
rebels at Corry Arrack, Cope perceived was 
to hazard in a fruitless effort the safety of his 
army. To retreat to Stirling seemed igno- 



ENTHUSIASM OF THE HIGHLANDERS. 257 

minious, and if he remained at Dalwhinnie he 
might incur the reproach of inactivity. He 
determined, therefore, with the concurrence 
of a council of war, to march into Inverness, 
and bring into the field the well-affected 
clans, not believing that the rebels would 
venture to descend into the Lowlands, while 
his army hung upon their rear. Such, indeed, 
was the feeling of many of the Jacobite officers, 
but Charles was their superior in political 
sagacity and military ability, and leaving his 
antagonist to pursue his march unmolested, 
put his own troops into motion, crossed the 
abrupt heights of Badenoch, and descended 
into the fertile plains of Athol. As he pro- 
ceeded numerous detachments joined his 
army, issuing from every glen and valley to 
fight under the standard of the Stuart, and 
each and all, when they came under the in- 
fluence of the Prince, were warmed by the 
fascination of his address and the gallantry of 
his bearing, into a very fever of enthusiastic 
loyalty ! The Highlanders (says Earl Stan- 
hope) were delighted at his athletic form and 
untiring energy ; like one of Homer^s heroes, 
he surpassed them all in stature. He required 
jfrom them no sacrifices in which he himself 



258 CHAELES EDWARD, THE PEETENDER. 

was unwilling to share. " At Dalwhinnie, lie 
slept with them upon the open moor, sheltered 
only by his plaid. Every day he marched 
alongside some one or other of their bands, 
inquiring into their national legends, or lis- 
tening to their traditionary songs. At table 
he partook only of their country dishes, seem- 
ing to prefer them to all others ; he wished to 
be, as he said, ' a true Highlander,' and his 
few phrases of Gaelic were used whenever 
occasion offered. On the other hand, the 
simple and enthusiastic Highlanders were 
prepared to find or to fancy every possible 
merit in their long-expected Prince. Upon 
the whole, it might be questioned whether 
any chief has ever, in so short a period, so 
greatly endeared himself to his followers.'' 

xiv. On the 30th of August Charles reached 
Blair, the seat of the Duke of Athol, who 
hastily fled at his approach, while the Mar- 
quis of TuUibardine joyfully took possession 
of the princely seat of his ancestors. Having 
received here the accession of several men of 
mark and influence, he swept onward to Perth, 
entering that ancient burgh upon horseback, 
amidst the exultant acclamations of the 
crowded streets. He remained at Perth several 



DISSENSIONS. 259 

days, mustering his men and collecting sup- 
plies of money. The Duke of Perth brought 
him 200 men, and Lord George Murray many 
of the tenants of his brother, the Duke of 
Athol. He brought him also what was in-- 
finitely more valuable, the benefit of his mili- 
tary experience and conspicuous ability, but, 
on the other hand, an obstinate temper, a 
rough and scornful manner, and an impatience 
of authority which soon sowed dissensions in 
the Prince's councils. The Duke of Perth 
became his declared enemy, and the minor 
satellites ranged themselves in two hostile 
camps; Secretary Murray and Sir Thomas 
Sheridan openly espousing the cause of the 
Duke, and the Prince himself frequently cha- 
fing at Lord George's scant observance of 
courtly etiquette. Nevertheless, Charles was 
fully sensible of the value of his services, and 
appointed him his Lieutenant General. 

XV. During his stay at Perth the annual 
fair was held, and he gladly seized the oppor- 
tunity of mingling with the crowds which it 
drew to the ancient city, and ingratiating 
himself with all classes by the graceful 
freedom of his manners. He conversed with 
them familiarly and sportively : " Tell your 



260 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

fellow citizens," he said to a linen draper from 
London, "that I expect to see them at St. 
James's in the course of tw^o months.^' At 
Perth he attended, for the first time, a Pro- 
testant place of worship. The daj on which 
he quitted it he visited the palace of Scoon, 
the ancient residence of his ancestors, hallowed 
by the memories of centuries of strife 
and vicissitude. He stood there — an adven- 
turer, preparing, sword in hand, to recover 
for his race the crown they had lost by their 
follies. Probably, the dream rose upon his 
excited imagination, that in no very distant 
future he might stand there — a king, bearing 
on his brow the diadem recovered by his 
chivalrous valour. 

xvi. He left Perth on the 11th of Septem- 
ber. He had learnt that Cope was rapidly j 
marching upon Aberdeen with the intention 
of there embarking his troops, and hastening 
by sea to the protection of the Lowlands. 
It was his object, therefore, to move forward 
with the utmost celerity, and seize upon 
Edinburgh before Cope could arrive to its 
assistance. On the evening of the 12th he 
passed Dumblane; on the 13th his army 
defiled in sight of " the banner'd towers of 



MILITARY MOVEMENTS. 261 

Doune/^ On the same day lie crossed the 
Ford of Frew, about seven miles above 
Stirling ; Cope's dragoons retiring as he 
advanced ; and traversed the memorable 
field of Bannockburn, where in the old time, 
as quaint John Barbour sings : 

" The battle sae fellon was, 
And sae richt great spilling of blude, 
That on the earth the sluices stude." 

The 14th saw him at Falkirk, and the next 
day at Linlithgow. He was now within six- 
teen miles of Edinburgh, where the greatest 
anxiety prevailed, and some hasty fortifica- 
tions were thrown up for its defence. The 
cattle was well-garrisoned, and commanded 
by General Grant, an intrepid veteran, but 
the city was incapable of resisting an assault, 
and its inhabitants, though generally well- 
affected to the reigning family, were indis- 
posed to peril their lives or property. They 
placed all their hopes in a small army of 
dragoons and volunteers, commanded by 
Colonel Gardiner, a pious, gallant, and loyal 
soldier. These were posted at Colt Bridge, 
in the immediate neighbourhood of the city, 
and it was there that Charles expected to 
meet at last with an obstinate resistance. 



262 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

But on the approach of a party of cavaliers 
from the Highland army, the dragoons were 
seized with a panic as shameful as it was 
unaccountable, which their officers were 
utterly unable to check. They galloped off 
the field in a frenzy of dismay, and, without 
slackening their speed through all the weary 
night, continued their headlong race until 
they reached the shores of Dunbar. This 
Canter of Coltbrigg^ as the ride of the 
dragoons was properly called, decided the 
late of Edinburgh. Its magistrates made no 
further efforts to provide for its defence, but 
engaged in a series of useless debates and 
fruitless recriminations, while Lochiel and 
five hundred Camerons contrived, by a simple 
ruse, to force their entrance into the Canon- 
gate, and sending parties round the inner 
circuit to the other gates, made themselves 
masters of the city without shedding a drop 
of blood. 

xvii. On the following day Prince Charles 
made his public entry into the Scottish capital, 
amidst the deep rolling cheers of the Jaco- 
bites, and the whispered admiration of even 
Hanoverian enemies. " The figure and 
presence of Charles Stuart,'' writes Home, 



A PORTRAIT. 263 

tte auttor of "Douglas," who was one of the 
spectators of this extraordinary scene, " were 
not ill-suited to his lofty pretensions. He 
was in the prime of youth, tall and handsome, 
of a fair complexion ; he had a light- colored 
periwig, with his own hair combed over the 
front ; he wore the Highland dress — that is, 
a tartan short without the plaid, a blue bon- 
net on his head, and on his breast the star of 
the order of St. Andrew. Charles stood 
some time in the park to show himself to the 
people ; and then, though he was very near 
the palace, mounted his horse, either to make 
himself more conspicuous, or because he rode 
well and looked graceful on horseback. The 
Jacobites were charmed with his appearance ; 
they compared him to Eobert Bruce, whom 
he resembled, they said, in his figure as in his 
fortune. The whigs looked upon him with 
other eyes. They acknowledged that he was 
a goodly person ; but they observed that, 
even in that triumphant hour, when he was 
about to enter the palace of his fathers, the 
air of his countenance was languid and 
melancholy : that he looked like a gentleman 
and a man of fashion, but not like a hero or 
a conqueror.'' 



264 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

xviii. As he made Ms appearance in front of 
Holyrood House, a cannon-ball from the 
castle struck a portion of James the Fifth's 
tower, and fell into the court-yard below. The 
Prince, calm and unmoved, continued his pro- 
gress, preceded by James Hepburn, of Keith, 
who had shared in the rebellion of 1715. He 
was a devoted partisan of the Stuarts, mainly 
through his abhorence of the Union, which, 
nevertheless, had been effected under the aus- 
pices ot a Stuart sovereign. 

In the evening the long-deserted chambers 
of Holyrood glittered with the pomp of re- 
velry, and the assiduous dancing of the Prince 
won the hearts of the Scottish beauties, com- 
pleting the conquest which the romantic story 
of his birth and misfortunes had begun. The 
next day he held a review of his troops, and 
announced his intention of immediately lead- 
ing them againpt the Hanoverian general 
whose army had landed at Dunbar on the 17th, 
and reinforced by the fugitive dragoons, and 
200 of Lord Loudon's men, had advanced 
towards Edinburgh. On the 19th Charles 
quitted the capital, and on the 20th the two 
enemies came in sight of each other, the rebels 
occupying the ridge of Garberry Hill — the 



BATTLE OF PRESTON PANS. 265 

royal troops drawn up in order of battle on the 
plain beneath. Cope's infantry were posted in 
the centre, with a regiment of dragoons and 
three pieces of artillery on each wing. His 
right rested on the village of Preston ; his 
left upon Seton House ; while the villages 
of Preston Pans and Cockenzie, with the 
sea, lay in his rear. 

xix. We need not describe the engage- 
ment that ensued. It resulted in the total re- 
pulse of the King's army, chiefly through the 
misconduct of the dragoons, who never waited 
to receive the attack of the Highlanders, but 
fled in ail directions. The infantry did their 
duty, but were overpowered by numbers ; the 
battle — or rather the skirmish — not enduring 
above five or six minutes. The Eoyalists lost 
400 men, and among the slain was the pious 
and heroic Colonel Gardiner, whose virtues 
and remarkable career have been celebrated 
by Dr. Doddridge. The rebels had but thirty 
killed and eighty wounded, and captured, by 
way of compensation,the greater number of the 
enemy's standards, the whole of the artillery, 
and the military chest containing upwards of 
£2,500. The panic which had taken possession 

VOL. II. N 



266 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

of the royal troops, many of whom had dis- 
tinguished themselves at Fontenoy and Det- 
tingen, seems unaccountable, and resulted, 
perhaps, as much from want of confidence in 
their commander, as from terrorat the strange 
aspect, savage looks, and unearthly cries of 
their Gaelic opponents. At all events, Charles' 
victory was complete, and rendered him for a 
time the master of Scotland. He returned to 
Edinburgh in triumph, and was received by 
the populace with the loudest acclamations. 
"Everybody,'' says a contemporary writer, 
" was mightily taken with the Prince's figure 
and personal behaviour. There was but one 
voice about them. Those whom interest and 
prejudice made a runaway to his cause could 
not help acknowledging that they wished him 
well in all other respects, and could hardly 
blame him for his present undertaking. Sundry 
things had concurred to raise his character to 
the highest pitch besides the greatness of the 
enterprise, and the conduct that had hitherto 
appeared in the execution of it. There were 
several instances of good nature and human- 
ity, that made a great impression on people's 
'minds." His gallantry during the battle of 
Preston Pans less benefited his cause than 



HOLLOWNESS OF THE BASE. 267 

his clemencj after it, and througliout his brief 
and romantic career he eagerly seized every 
opportunity ol mercy and compassion. 

XX. But notwithstanding Charles's success 
he was scarcely nearer to the crown of his 
ancestors than at the commencement of his 
enterprise. The clergy stood aloof in ominous 
silence, and the great body of the people of 
both nations seem scarcely to have regarded 
it in a serious light. Some consternation 
might exist among a portion of the aristocracy, 
but the country at large went placidly on its 
way, apparently ignorant of the fact that a 
Stuart held his court at Holyrood, and had 
worsted the royal army at Preston Pans. Sa- 
tisfied with the liberties they enjoyed under 
the Hanoverian rule, the subjects of George 
the Second, however little they loved him, 
were entirely indisposed to swear allegiance 
to the grandson of James the Second. Had 
they believed that such a change was possible, 
they would assuredly have risen with deter- 
mined hearts to resist it ; but there is abun- 
dant evidence to show that the rebellion of 
'45 was never seriously regarded by the 
bulk of the English nation. Men looked on 

N 2 



268 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 



in silence, as we watch with indifference the 
playing out of a dreary farce, and the chief 
feeling excited by the Pretender was that of 
curiosity. We cannot agree with Earl Stan- 
hope that at any time Prince Charles had a 
chance of gaining the British throne. We 
believe that had there existed the probability 
of such a chance, England would unmistaka- 
bly have manifested its determination to support 
the House of Hanover. On this point we 
quote with pleasure the language of a recent 
writer : — ^' Everybody,'' he says, " knows the 
main incidents of Prince Charles's romantic 
campaign ; the successful battles which gave 
the insurgents the apparent command of the 
Lowlands ; the advance into England ; the 
retreat from Derby ; the disasters of the rebel 
army, and its final extinction at CuUoden. 
But although to us it appears a very serious 
state of affairs — a crown placed on the arbi_ 
trament of war, battles in open field, surprise 
on the part of the Hanoverians, and loud 
talking on the part of their rivals — the tran- 
quillity of all ranks and in all quarters is the 
most inexplicable thing in the whole pro- 
ceeding. When the landing was at first an- 
nounced alarm was of course felt, as at a fair 



HGLLOWNESS OF THE BASE. 269 

when it is reported that a tiger has broke 
loose from the menagerie. But in a little 
time everything resumed its ordinary appear- 
ance. George himself cried 'Pooh, pooh ! 
Don t talk to me of such nonsense.^ His 
ministers, wlio probably knew the state of 
public feeling, were equally unconcerned. A 
few troops were brought over from the Con- 
tinent, to show that force was not wanting if 
the application of it was required. But in 
other respects no one appeared to believe that 
the assumed fears of the disaffected, and the 
no less assumed exultation of the Jacobites, 
had any foundation in fact. Trade, law, buy- 
ing and selling, writing and publishing, went 
on exactly as before. The march of the 
Pretender was little attended to, except per- 
haps in the political circles in London. In 
the great towns it passed almost unheeded. 
Quiet families, within a few miles of the in- 
vader's march, posted or walked across to see 
the uncouth battalions pass. Their strange 
appearance furnished subjects for conversa- 
tion for a month, but nowhere does there 
seem to have been the terror of a real state of 
war — the anxious waiting for intelligence, 
*the pang, the agony, the doubt;' no one felt 



270 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

uneasy as to the result. England liad deter- 
mined to have no more Stuart kings, and 
Scotland was beginning to feel the benefit of 
the Union, and left the defence of the true 
inheritor to the uninformed, discontented, 
disunited inhabitants of the hills." 

xxi. It would be inconsistent with the ot)- 
ject of these volumes for us to dwell at any 
length upon the various incidents which dis- 
tinguished the course of this singular rebel- 
lion. These are set forth with admirable 
fulness in Earl Stanhope's " History of Eng- 
land from the Peace of Utrecht,'' and espe- 
cially in the elaborate '^ History of the Rebel- 
lion of 1745," compiled by Mr. Chambers. 
Enough for us to indicate some of the more 
important occurrences, and to trace the gene- 
ral conduct of the Prince. 

The Castle of Edinburgh still held out for 
George the Second, and as the governor 
threatened to cannonade the city if he was 
not allowed to obtain the supplies he wanted, 
Charles left it unmolested. Having drawn 
from various quarters considerable reinforce- 
ments, though unable to secure the co-opera- 
tion of some of the most influential of the 
Highland chiefs, and levied what loans and 



INVADES ENGLAND. 271 

contributions he could, he resolved to invade 
England, where he expected to be joined by 
a large, powerful, and wealthy Jacobite party. 
He set out from Holyrood on the last day of 
October, and on the next day his army of 
6,000 men, 500 of whom were cavalry, divid- 
ing into two columns, began its march. But 
the invasion was so distasteful to the High- 
landers that they began to desert in great 
numbers on the way. 

xxii. Marshal Wade was now at the head 
of the royal army collected to oppose the 
progress of the rebels. He was utterly 
deficient in military ability, and as inactive 
as he was stolid. The Scotch army, directed 
by the superior genius of Lord George 
Murray, easily out-manoeuvred the lethargic 
Marshal ; and while Wade was preparing to 
meet them in Northumberland, suddenly 
crossed the borders into Cumberland, on the 
evening of the 8th of November. As the 
clans broke into English territory they drew 
their claymores, with an exultant shout ; but 
Lochiel, in unsheathing his sword, chanced 
to cut his hand, and these brave Highlanders, 
whom no enemy could daunt, turned pale at 
what they considered an evil omen. Charles 



272 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

immediately invested Carlisle, which surren- 
dered on the 17th, without hesitation, but 
whose inhabitants showed no attachment to 
his cause, and evidently regarded the whole 
as an amusing pageant in which the invest- 
ment and surrender of their town was a 
necessary tableau. And while success 
apparently crowned his arms, the tidings he 
received from Scotland showed how insecure 
was his hold upon that kingdom. The crown 
authorities had re-entered Edinburgh ; Perth, 
and Dundee, Glasgow, Paisley, and Dumfries, 
had resumed their allegiance to the House of 
Hanover. The Highlanders might jauntily 
set the white rose in their bonnets, and 
brandish their claymores with wild triumphant 
cheers, but the wealth and intellect and good 
feeling of the two nations had renounced for 
ever the cause of the Stuarts. 

xxiii. Nevertheless, partly buoyed up by 
the hope of a French invasion, and partly by 
his belief that the English Jacobites would 
flock by thousands to his standard, the adven- 
turer continued his march into England. On 
the 27 th he rested at Preston, from whence 
he proceeded to Wigan, and from Wigan to 
Manchester. The people thronged the road 



DETERMINES ON RETREAT. 273 

to see the HigUanders pass, but wlien offered 
arms and solicited to enlist, refused on the 
plea that thej did not understand fighting ! 
At Manchester, however, he was joined by 
about 200 volunteers — the whole that Lan- 
cashire, once the stronghold of the Stuart 
cause, was now inclined to do for the last of 
the Stuarts. And, meanwhile, the English 
government were making vigorous prepara- 
tions to crush the rebellion. Admiral Vernon 
cruised in the channel, and Admiral Byng 
off the Scottish coast, to prevent a French 
invasion, or even French supplies. An army 
for the protection of London was mustering' 
at Finchley. The Duke of Cumberland had 
assembled 8,000 troops at Lichfield. Marshal 
Wade was moving in his rear. Large bodies 
of militia were levied in various districts, 
and Liverpool and Chester were put in a 
state of defence. Under these circumstances 
it is hardly surprising that when the rebel 
army reached Derby, without receiving 
those accessions of English Jacobites on 
which so many hopes had been raised, its 
leaders should be unwilling to hazard a 
further advance. It was useless for the Prince 

N 5 



274 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

to oppose liis opinion to the determination of 
Lord George Murray and his ablest officers. 
He saw only the honour and glory of enter- 
ing London in triumph; their cooler judg- 
ment perceived the perils which were rapidly 
environing them. Accordingly, though 
Charles exclaimed that rather than go back 
he would wish to be twenty feet under ground, 
he was constrained to accede to the proposi- 
tions of his council, and on the 6th of Decem- 
ber the rebel army commenced its retreat, 
annihilating for ever the hopes of the 
Stuarts ! 

xxiv. The retreat was characterised by 
very different features to the advance. 
Charles, formerly so hopeful and elate, was 
now sullen and dejected; and instead of 
marching at the head of his men, on foot, 
rode on horseback lingeringly in the rear. 
The troops were no longer kept under the 
bonds of restraint, and marked their progress 
by acts of violence and rapine, which brought 
down upon them the anger of the country 
people. Every straggler was slain without 
mercy, and even the sick were treated with 
unjustifiable severity. At Manchester, so 
favourably inclined to the Stuarts a few days 



THE DUKE OF CUMBERLAND. 275 

before, a violent mob opposed tbeir vanguard, 
and thougb dispersed, again harassed their 
rear when they marched away. 

XXV. As soon as the Duke of Cumberland 
was apprised of the retreat of the rebels 
he immediately pushed forward in pursuit. 
The rebels arrived at Carlisle on the 19th, 
and threw into the town a small garrison. 
The Duke attacked it on the 29th, and com- 
pelled its defenders to surrender uncondition- 
ally. On the 20th of December the invaders 
forded the Esk, and re-entered their own 
country, proceeding by different routes to 
Glasgow, where Charles arrived on the 26th, 
having marched from Edinburgh to Derby, 
and Derby back again to Glasgow — 580 
miles in six-and-fifty days. Here he re- 
mained eight days, refreshing and re-equip- 
ping his army ; and on the 3rd of January, 
1746, he set out for Stirling. Eeinforced by 
two bodies of troops, under Lords John 
Drummond and Strathallan, he found himself 
at the head of 9,000 men, and sufficiently 
strong to undertake the siege of Stirling 
Castle, which he was desirous to secure as 
commanding the communication between the 
Highlands and Lowlands. But that fortress 



276 CHARLES EDWAED, THE PRETENDER. 

was well garrisoned and commanded by an 
experienced soldier, General Blakeney. By 
this time, also. General Hawley, who had 
been appointed to the command of the royal 
army, in the room of the Duke of Cumber- 
land — that general having been recalled, with 
his infantry, to guard the southern coast 
against an apprehended French invasion — 
had advanced into Scotland, and was march- 
ing to the relief of Stirling. Charles there- 
fore turned to meet him, and pressing 
forward rapidly, found that most contemptible 
and inefficient commander lying idle at 
l^alkirk, in the belief that at the news of his 
approach the " Highland rabble'' would dis- 
perse in utter dismay. A battle immediately 
ensued, in which the royal dragoons behaved 
with their wonted cowardice, and the infantry 
with their usual steadiness, but, badly led by 
Hawley, were forced to retire. Charles did 
not pursue, and Hawley reached Edinburgh 
in safety, but covered with disgrace. 

xxvi. The victory of Falkirk, however, 
was of no real advantao-e to the Pretender's 

o 

cause, and proved to be the last gleam of suc- 
cess which brightened his daring enterprise. 
As soon as Hawley' s defeat was known in 



A EEMARKABLE CAPTAIN. 277 

London, tlie Duke of Cumberland was once 
more appointed to the command-in-cliief in 
Scotland. He set out immediately, and tra- 
velled with such rapidity that he reached 
Holyrood House on the morning of the 30th 
January, — a day of ill-omen to the house of 
Stuart. The Eoyal Duke, destined — says 
Earl Stanhope — to wield so decisive an in- 
fluence over the fortunes of his cousin and 
competitor, was of very nearly the same age, 
being only four months younger. His char- 
acter was adorned by considerable virtues ; 
honesty of purpose, adherence to his promises, 
attachment to his friends. He was a dutiful 
son, and a liberal patron ; as a soldier, he was 
enthusiastically fond of his profession ; he had 
closely studied its details, and might even be 
lauded for capacity in an age which, to Eng- 
land at least, was singularly barren of military 
merit. " He had an intrepid temper,^' says 
Macaulay ; " a strong understanding, and a 
high sense of honour and duty. As a general, 
he belonged to a remarkable class of captains ; 
captains, we mean, whose fate it has been to 
lose almost all the battles which they have 
fought, and yet to be reputed stout and skil- 
ful soldiers. Such captains are Coligni and 



278 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

William the Third. His bravery was such as 
distinguished him even among the princes of 
his brave house. The indifference with which 
he rode about amidst musket balls and cannon 
balls was not the highest proof of his fortitude. 
Hopeless maladies, horrible surgical opera- 
ations, far from unmanning him, did not even 
discompose him. With courage, he had the 
virtues which are akin to courage. He spoke 
the truth, was open in enmity and friendship, 
and upright in all his dealings." But he 
carried his sense of duty to an extreme ; his 
rigid justice often became severity ; and the 
cruelty with which he treated the rebels after 
the victory of Culloden, when mercy would 
have been a wiser — not to say a more righte- 
ous — policy, has flung so dark a shadow on 
his fame that men are apt to forget the extent 
of his services and the excellences of his 
character. 

xxvii. The Duke of Cumberland remained 
thirty hours at Edinburgh, and then set out to 
give the rebels battle. He was accompanied 
by Hawley and the Earl of Albemarle as 
Lieutenant-Generals, and his soldiers were in 
high spirits, from the assurance of victory 
which the presence of the Duke seemed to 



THE DUKE S PURSUIT. 279 

afford. The rebels were already in rapid re- 
treat, the Prince having been compelled to 
accede to the wishes of his ablest officers, who 
perceived the impossibility of making head 
with their diminished forces against the Duke 
of Cumberland's army. They retired, in dif- 
ferent divisions, towards Inverness, and the 
royal army pursued them with a rapidity al- 
most equal to their own. Prince Charles 
arrived at Inverness on the 18th of February, 
driving before him a body of about 2,000 men 
under the Earl of Loudon. He then subdued 
the citadel, and sent out a detachment to 
reduce and destroy Fort Augustus. But these 
temporary advantages produced no real gain. 
The rebel army was now cooped up among 
the mountains, debarred from all supplies, in 
want both of money and provisions, and har- 
assed by the dissensions among its chiefs ; 
while the royal troops, well supplied and 
equipped, were gradually approaching its 
retreat. The Duke had left Aberdeen, on the 
8th of April, at the head of about 9,000 foot, 
and 900 cavalry. He forded the Spey on the 
12th, and on the 14th entered Nairn, where he 
halted, and his army celebrated his birthday 
on the 15th. Meanwhile, Prince Charles and 



280 CHAELES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

his lieutenant-general, Lord George Murray, 
resolved upon a night march with the view of 
surprising the Duke in his camp at Nairn, and 
making the suddenness of the attack compen- 
sate for the disparity of numbers. From 
various causes they were not able to complete 
their preparations until eight at night, and 
then, the fatigued and famine-worn soldiers 
could not make the rapid progress their 
leaders desired. It was two o'clock before 
the head of the first column passed Kilravock 
House, which was nearly four miles from the 
English camp. Finding it impossible to 
succeed in their original design the rebel 
leaders retraced their steps, and resolved to 
await their enemy upon Culloden, or Drumos- 
sie Moor. Lord George Murray was anxious 
that the army, unfit as it was for any exertion, 
should retire beyond the river Nairn where the 
ground was inaccessible to cavalry, but the 
ardour and confidence of Charles would hear 
of no further retreat, and many of his coun- 
sellors were equally eager to make one more 
throw for victory. 

xxviii. The prince drew up his army in two 
lines : the Camerons, the Athol brigade, the 
Stuarts, and some other clans under Lord 



BATTLE OF CULLODEN. 281 

George Murray, on the right ; the Macdonald 
regiments, on the left, under Lord John 
Drummon J. '' But we of the clan Macdonald,'^ 
says one of their officers, " thought it ominous 
that we had not this day the right hand in 
battle, as formerly at Gladsmuir, and at Fal- 
kirk, and which our clan maintains "we had 
enjoyed in all our battles and struggles since 
the battle of Bannockburn." The right 
flank was covered by some park walls ; the 
left rested on a gentle slope which led to 
Culloden House. The royal troops came 
upon the field about eleven o'clock, and were 
drawn up by the Duke in three lines, with 
cavalry on each wing, and two pieces of can- 
non between every two regiments of the first 
line. " To obviate the effect of the Highland 
target, the Duke had instructed his soldiers, 
that each of them in action should direct his 
thrust, not at the man directly opposite, but 
against the one who fronted his right-hand 
comrade. He now again addressed his troops, 
saying that he would not suppose that there 
was any man in the British army reluctant to 
fight, but if there were any who, either fi^om 
disinclination to the cause, or having relations 
in the rebel army, would prefer to retire, he 



282 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

begged them in the name of God to do so, as 
he would rather face the Highlanders with 
1000 determined men at his back, then have 
10,000 with a tithe who were lukewarm/' 
To this appeal the soldiers enthusiastically 
responded with cries of '^ Flanders ! Flan- 
ders !'' It was now past noon, and it was 
submitted to the Duke that he should allow 
his men to dine before they went into action. 
" No," he replied, " the men will fight better 
and more actively with empty bellies ; and, 
moreover, it would be a bad omen : You re- 
member what a dessert they got to their din- 
ner at Falkirk!" 

xxix. In the action which followed both 
the rival princes displayed the utmost cool- 
ness and courage. The Highlanders rushed 
to the attack with their customary spirit, but 
were met by the British infantry with im- 
moveable steadiness, and mowed down by a 
rolling fire of musketry and cannon, which 
threw them into disorder. The Royal troops 
took instant advantage of their success, and 
swept upon the clans with an irresistible fury 
which converted disorder into confusion, and 
turned a retreat into a rout. The right and 
centre were thus defeated. On the left, the 



BATTLE OF CULLODEN. 283 

Macdonalds, aggrieved at their removal from 
what they considered the post of honour, 
stood ''moody and motionless," and neither 
the impassioned entreaties of the Duke of 
Perth, or their clansman Keppoch, could in- 
duce them to advance. The latter Tvas brought 
to the ground by a musket shot, while ex- 
claiming, " My God ! have the children of 
my tribe forsaken me ?'^ Thus they stood 
until the right and centre were repulsed. 
Then, in good order, they fell back, joining 
the remnant of the second line, but harassed 
in the rear by the frequent charges of the 
British cavalry. 

XXX. Charles looked upon the ruin of his 
hopes with a species of incredulous amaze- 
ment. When he saw his Highlanders re- 
pulsed and flying, he advanced to rally them, 
but Sir Thomas Sheridan and others pointed 
out that the battle was irretrievably lost, and 
prevailed upon him to quit the field. 

xxxi. Happy for him that he could not 
witness the massacre of his unfortunate 
followers, whom the ferocious cavalry cut 
down with savage exultation, until the moor 
was covered with the slain, and the men, 
"what with killing the enemy, dabbling 



284: CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

their feet in the blood, and splashing it about 
one another, looked like so many butchers !^' 
On the following day most of the wounded 
were put to death — the only occasion, we 
believe, on which such barbarity has dis- 
graced a British army. The helpless fugitives 
who had taken shelter in thickets or cabins 
were dragged from their hiding places, drawn 
out in line, and shot to death, or their brains 
beaten out by the soldiers with the butt-ends 
of their muskets. One farm building, into 
which some twenty disabled Highlanders had 
crawled, was deliberately set on fire, and 
burnt with them to the ground. The atro- 
cious massacre called forth from the pen .of 
Smollet an indignant lamentation, and in his 
" Tears of Scotland '' is described in language 
which passion elevates into poetry : 

" Oh ! baneful cause, oh 1 fatal morn, 
Accursed to ages yet unborn ! 
The sons against their fathers stood, 
The parent shed his children's blood. 
Yes ; when the rage of battle ceased, . 
The victor's soul was not appeased ; 
The naked and forlorn must feel 
Devouring flames and murdering steel ; 
The pious mother, doomed to death, 
Forsaken wanders o'er the heath ; 
The bleak wind whistles round her head, 
Her helpless orphans cry for bread ; 
Bereft of shelter, food, and friend, 



AFTER THE FIGHT. 285 

She views the shades of night descend ; 
And stretch'd beneath th' inclement skies, 
Weeps o'er her tender babes and dies. 
While the warm blood bedews my veins. 
And unimpaired remembrance reigns 
Eesentment of my country's fate 
Within my filial breast shall beat ; 
And, spite of her insulting foe, 
My sympathising verse shall glow : 
Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn, 
Thy banished peace, thy laurels torn." 

xxxii. From the fatal field of Culloden 
Charles rode away, with ten faithful follow- 
ers, to Gortulj, the seat of Lord Lovat, who 
received him now in his ill fortune with a 
pitiful lack of courtesy. Having partaken 
of some food and wine he rode forward to 
Invergarrj, but found its owner absent, and 
neither furniture nor provisions in the house. 
Stretching himself on the bare floor, however, 
Charles slept till the middle of the next day, 
when he partook of two salmon which his 
Highland guide, Edward Burke, had caught 
in a neighbouring loch. Here the whole of 
his party except Burke, O' Sullivan, and 
O'Neal, took their leave of him, and the 
Prince hastened towards the Coast in the 
hope of getting on board a French ship to 
convey him to the Continent. Having 
reached Arisaig, near the spot where he had 



286 CHARLES EDWAED, THE PRETENDER. 

first set foot on Scottish ground, he obtained 
a boat, and a guide in the person of Donald 
Macleod, a faithful old Highlander from the 
Isle of Skye, and embarked on the 24th of 
April for the Western Islands. On the fol- 
lowing morning they gained the cluster 
of Isles named Long Island, and soon after- 
wards effected a landing at Eoonish, in the 
desolate island of Benbecula, where the 
Prince took up his quarters in an uninhabited 
hut. He remained in this wretched abode 
two days and nights, owing to the prevalence 
of a terrible storm. On the 29 th the adven- 
turers put to sea in the hope of gaining 
Stornaway, the principal port in the island 
of Lewis, but were driven by another storm 
to the island of Scalpa, where Donald Mac- 
leod provided the Prince with comfortable 
shelter. After some further wanderings he 
reached South Uist, and received the kindest 
attentions from the elder Clanranald. His 
stay in this island exceeded a month. He 
was driven from it by the arrival of a large 
body of militia, and the appearance off its 
coast of several small vessels of war. He 
passed four nights in the little island of Win ; 
the next two at a desolate spot called Eoss- 



FLORA MACDONALD. 287 

inisli, and the following one in a cave in the 
rocks of Arkersideallich. He then again 
visited South Uist, where he remained three 
days, and drank four bottles of brandy — the 
habit of intemperance which finally wrecked 
his fortunes now first taking hold of him. 
He found himself, on the second day after his 
landing, within a mile and a half of five 
hundred regular troops and militia. Escape 
seemed as impossible as concealment, but he 
was saved from his enemies by the courage 
and devotion of Flora Macdonald — the 
" Flora Mac Ivor ^' of Scott^s Waverley — and 
a heroine who added considerable powers of 
mind and fascination of manner to remark- 
able graces of person. She was then on a 
visit to Clanranald's family, and generously 
undertook to save the Prince at whatever 
hazard to herself. From her stepfather, a 
Captain in the hostile militia, she obtained a 
passport to proceed to Skye, for herself, a 
man-servant, and a maid, who was termed 
Betty Burke, and was to be personated bj 
the Pretender. She also obtained from him 
a letter to her mother, recommending her to 
take the said Betty Burke into her service, if 



288 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

she proved as cunning a spinstress as she was 
said to be. It ran as follows : 

"I have sent your daughter from this 
country, least she should be any way 
frightened with the troops lying here. She 
has got one Betty Burke, an Irish girl, who, 
as she tells me, is a good spinstress. If her 
spinning pleases you, you may keep her till 
she spins all your knit ; or, if you have any 
wool to spin, you may employ her. I have 
sent Neil Mackechan along with your daugh- 
ter and Betty Burke to take care of them. 
" I am, your dutiful husband, 

"Hugh Macdonald.'' 

xxxiii. When Lady Clanranald and the 
heroine. Flora, sought out the Prince, with 
the female attire which it was necessary he 
should assume, they found him in a small 
hovel, cooking the dinner, which consisted of 
a sheep's heart, liver, and kidneys, roasting 
on a wooden spit. They expressed their grief 
at seeing the son of their King reduced to so 
miserable a condition. " It would perhaps be 
well for all Kings," he replied, " if they could 
pass through the same ordeal of hardships and 
privations which it has been my lot to under- 
go." On the same evening, with Flora and 



ROMANTIC ADVENTURES. 289 

a real Higlilander, named Neil Mac Kechan, 
who acted as servant, he set out from his 
dangerous concealment (June 28th). In the 
course of the night a storm drove them off 
shore, and in the morning no land could be 
descried, but in due time thej made the 
western coast of the Isle of Skye. Here, 
when about to land, they were saluted with a 
volley of musketry from a company of 
soldiers who suddenly made their appearance, 
and it was only by dint of hard rowing that 
they escaped from their perilous position. The 
weather had now moderated, and as the frail 
boat glided tranquilly over the waters, Flora 
Macdonald, worn with fatigue, fell asleep. 
Charles sat by her, anxious that her slumbers 
should not be disturbed by any needless noise 
on the part of the boatmen. He manifested 
throughout their wanderings the utmost 
interest in his fair and heroic companion, with 
a delicacy of feeling and gentleness of man- 
ner worthy both of her and himself. 

xxxiv. Why has no modern Homer sung the 
Odyssey of this romantic adventure ? It was 
replete with chance and change that mig;ht 
well fascinate the imagination, and hallowed 

VOL. II. o 



290 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

by a spirit of self-sacrifice and fidelity which 
the poet might well desire to immortalize. 
Of all the unlettered hinds and savage 
mountaineers who became the confidants of 
the Prince's secret, not one betrayed it ; and 
though the British Government appealed to 
man^s cupidity with the splendid bribe of 
thirty thousand pounds, no knave was found 
so base as to play the traitor to the fugitive. 
Such incidents as these might teach the mis- 
anthrope to think better of our common 
nature, and to honour with fitting reverence 
that manhood which is capable of a self- 
denial so noble, and a loyalty so profound. 

Charles was now in the territories of Sir 
Alexander Macdonald, who from an insincere 
adherent of his cause had become its bitter 
foe. Nevertheless, to his wife. Lady Mar- 
garet, the daughter of the Earl of Eglintoun, 
Flora appealed for assistance, and that divine 
pity, which is the hallowed guest of every 
true woman's heart, responded to the appeal. 
She received the tidings of his misfortunes 
with pain, of his arrival in Skye with surprise, 
and secured for the fugitive the services of Mac- 
donald of Kingsburgh, her husband's kinsman 
and factor, but in secret a warm adherent of 



A POOR PRETENDER. 291 

the exiled family. They now proceeded to 
Kingsburgh's house ; the awkwardness of the 
prince in his woman's habiliments attracting 
the attention of Mrs. Macdonald's servant. 
" I think," said she, " I never saw such an 
impudent-looking woman as Kingsburgh is 
walking with : I dare say she is either an Irish- 
woman, or a man in woman's clothes. See 
what long strides the jade takes, and how 
clumsy she manages her petticoats." Flora 
replied that indeed she was an Irishwoman, 
and that she remembered to have seen her 
before. In fording a small brook which ran 
across the road, the prince held his petticoats 
up so improperly high as to cause the laughter 
and excite the wit of the country people who 
witnessed the unfeminine action. And when 
cautioned against the impropriety, on the 
next occasion he ran into the opposite extreme, 
allowing his skirts to float upon the water. 
" Your enemies," said Kingsburgh, '' call 
you a pretender, but it you be, I can tell 
you you are the worst of your trade I ever 
saw." 

XXXV. From Kingsburgh the prince pro- 
cured the acceptable gift of a pair of new 

2 



292 CHARLES EDWAED, THE PRETENDER. 

shoes. The old pair were carefully tied 
together bj the loyal Jacobite, and hung 
upon a peg, with the remark that they might 
yet be of service to him. " For," said he, 
" when you are fairly settled in St. James's, 
sir, I shall introduce myself by shaking these 
shoes at you, to put you in mind of your 
night's entertainment and protection under 
my roof." These souvenirs of the prince's 
adventures, after Kingsburgh's death, were 
cut in pieces, and divided from time to time 
among the Jacobite friends of the family. 
" It is in the recollection of one of his descend- 
ants," says Chambers, " that Jacobite ladies 
often took away the pieces they got in their 
bosoms." 

xxxvi. Charles now removed to Portrie, 
where, entering a wood, he exchanged his 
female attire for a Highland dress. Next 
day he bade farewell to the heroic Flora 
Macdonald, with many ardent and sincere 
acknowledgments of her services. Dis- 
guised as a servant, and under the name of 
Lewis Caw, he passed over to the Isle of 
Easay. His wanderings were not yet over ; 
he was again compelled to return to the 
mainland, and take refuge in a cave with 



DEPARTS FROM SCOTLAND. 293 

seven robbers for nearly three wee6:s. He 
afterwards effected a junction with his leal 
adherents, Clunj and Lochiel, wh'en he en- 
joyed aplenty to which he had long been un- 
accustomed. " Now, gentlemen, I live like a 
prince !'^ he exclaimed, when devouring some 
collops from a saucepan with a silver spoon. 
For some time they resided in a very roman-- 
tic and singular retreat, called The Cage^ on 
the side of Mount Benalder ; it was concealed 
by a dense coppice, and half suspended in the 
air. One of its tenants describes it as " only 
large enough to contain six or seven persons, 
four of which number were frequently em- 
ployed in playing at cards ; one idle, looking 
on; one baking; and another firing bread 
and cooking." Here the prince received the 
welcome intelligence that two French vessels, 
despatched to his relief, under the direction 
of a Colonel Warren, had sailed from St. 
Malo towards the end of August, and safely 
arrived in Lochnanuagh on the 6th of Sep- 
tember. Thither the prince proceeded 
without delay, and finally embarked from 
Scotland on the 20th of September, attended 
by Lochiel, Colonel Roy Stuart, twenty-one 
gentlemen, and one hundred and seven com- 



294 CHARLES EDWAKD, THE PRETENDER. 

mon men. " It was tlie very same spot/' 
observes Earl Stanhope, " where Charles had 
landed fourteen months before, but how 
changed since that time, both his fate and his 
feelings ! With what different emotions must 
he have gazed on those desolate mountains, 
when stepping from his ship in the ardour of 
hope and coming victory ; and now, when he 
saw them fade away in the blue distance, and 
bade them an everlasting farewell ! Rapidly 
did his vessel bear him from the Scottish 
shores ; concealed by a fog, he sailed through 
the midst of the English fleet ; and he safely 
landed at the little port of Roscoff, near 
Morlaix, on the 29th of September/' 

xxxvii. Over the further career of the prince 
it is unnecessary to linger, and fortunate 
would it have been for his memory had it 
terminated on the wild shores of Lochna- 
nuagh. History would then have painted him 
in her brightest colours and with her most flat- 
tering pencil as a hero without guile — brave, 
merciful, and generous — a man among men — 
to women tender and chivalrous as the best of 
the knights of old. It would have shown 
him capable of enduring with heroic fortitude 
the greatest privations, exposing himself in 



THE REVERSE OF THE MEDAL. 295 

battle with the most ardent courage, conduct- 
ing himself in council with the highest pru- 
dence. It would have represented him as 
possessing all the virtues of his family with- 
out its vices, and as fitted by every grace of 
person and power of mind to wield the sceptre 
of his ancestors. It would have luxuriated 
in pleasant speculations upon the happiness 
of England if his bold adventure had met 
with the success it deserved, and in eloquent 
lamentations that Fortune decided in favour 
of a stolid and passionless Hanoverian. We 
should all have been Jacobite in our 
sympathies, for to that poetry which is latent 
in the nature of every one of us the romantic 
narrative of his sorrows and his sufferings 
would have appealed. But History has now 
to show us the reverse of the medal. The 
prince, who was once so capable of enduring 
privation, so generous, so thoughtful for 
others, so energetic and impassioned, sank, 
under the influence of an unhappy Fate, into 
a selfish and unfeeling voluptuary ; became a 
drunkard, a faithless husband, and a false 
friend. Over the sad process of his degrada- 
tion and decay let the cynic prolong his mus- 
ings; for us, we shall turn with pleasure 



296 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

from tlie shadows and darkness of a picture 
which attracts us at first bj its warmth and 
brilliancy of colour. 

xxxviii. From Spain, from Prussia, and from 
France, the Prince endeavoured in vain to 
obtain the resources of a second expedition : 
but neither was willing to engage any further 
in what was evidently a losing speculation. 
The nomination of his brother Henry as Car- 
dinal (July 3rd, 1747) proved a severe blow 
to his ambitious hopes ; it showed that the old 
Chevalier himself no longer considered a res« 
toration possible, while it demonstrated his 
persistent attachment to the Church of Eome. 
By the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle France finally 
abandoned his cause, and consented to exclude 
the Pretender from her territories ; and Charles 
endured the ignominy of being arrested by a 
party of the French Guards, imprisoned for a 
few days in Vincennes, and cast out upon the 
frontiers of Savoy like a common malefactor or 
houseless vagabond. For some years he van- 
ished from the public stage, wandering in. 
disguise through Germany and Holland, visit- 
ing England incognito in 1750 and 1752, and 
pursuing the chase in the gloomy recesses of 
the forest of Ardennes. On the death of the 



AN UNHAPPY MARRIAGE. 297 

Chevalier, in 1 766, lie took up his residence 
at Eome, and was reconciled to his brother 
the Cardinal ; indulging himself in the society 
of a Miss Walkinshaw, a mistress whom he 
had first known in Scotland, and in habits of 
gross intemperance which soon alienated from 
him the most devoted adherents of his cause 
and family. In 1772, in his fifty-third year, 
he married a Eoman Catholic lady, — a girl of 
twenty, — Princess Louisa of Stolberg. At- 
tracted by the romance of his adventures she 
hoped for '' an Hyperion ;'' she found " a 
satyr," " bloated and red in the tace,'' with 
a countenance '' heavy and sleepy ^' from ex- 
cess of drinking. Who cannot imagine the 
results of so unfortunate a marriage? Harsh- 
ness on the husband's part, followed by faith- 
lessness on the wife's. Disappointed in her 
ideal, the Countess of Albany (for such was 
the title she bore) sought consolation in the 
passionate eloquence of the poet Alfieri ; and 
the woman who confides her sorrows to a 
lover will soon entrust him with her honour. 
She eloped with Alfieri in 1780. 

xxxix. To comfort his declining years the 
Pretender called to his side his daughter by 

5 



298 CHARLES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER. 

Miss Walkinshaw, and created her Duchess of 
Albany. They resided for some years at 
Florence, maintaining a mimic parade of 
sovereign state, speculating in astrological 
predictions, and nourishing hopes of a resto- 
ration to the throne of England which every 
month rendered more visionary and absurd. 
In 1785, they returned to Rome ; where the 
hero of the '45 died, in his 68th year, of an 
attack of palsy and apoplexy, on the 30th of 
January, 1 788, the anniversary of the execution 
of his great-grandfather, Charles the 1st. His 
remains were interred, with an affectation of 
regal pomp, in the Cathedral Church of Fres- 
cati, of which his brother was Bishop, but 
afterwards removed to St. Peter's at Rome, 
where a sumptuous monument from the elo- 
quent chisel of Can ova perpetuates, at the ex- 
pense of the House of Hanover, the memory 
of a fallen dynasty, and the names of James 
the Third, Charles the Third, and Henry the 
Ninth, Kings of England. Let sovereigns 
gaze upon the marble, and profit by the warn- 
ing it conveys ! 

xl. Of the " Last of the Stuarts"— Henry 
Benedict Clement Marco, the second and 
youngest son of the Chevalier, born at Rome, 



CARDINAL YORK. 299 

on the 26tli of March, 1725, a few words of 
cursory notice may be acceptable. 

He was only twenty-three years old when 
he received a Cardinal's hat from Benedict 
the Fourteenth. Subsequently he was ap- 
pointed Bishop of Frescati, and Chancellor of 
the Church of St. Peter, — dignities for 
which he was eminently qualified by the 
purity of his morals and the sincerity of his 
devotion. His life for many years passed 
away in the tranquil performance of his duties, 
until disturbed by the storms of the French 
revolution, which swept so scathingly over 
the heads both of the exalted and the humble. 
That event deprived him of the two rich 
livings which he enjoyed in France ; and the 
excesses of the revolutionary troops in Italy 
despoiled him of his valuable library and 
collection of antiquities. Aged, infirm, and 
almost destitute, he fled from Eome to Padua, 
in 1798, and from Padua retired to Venice, 
where he would have been reduced to the 
extreme of indigence, but for a yearly pen- 
sion of £4,000, which George the 3rd, on 
hearing of his misfortunes, generously 
allowed him. He continued to enjoy it until 
his death, which took place at Eome, in June, 



800 CHAELES EDWARD, THE PRETENDER, 

1807, at the age of eighty-two. Thus perished 
the dynasty of the Stuarts, after giving four 
monarchs to the throne of Great Britain, and 
experiencing a more than ordinary share of 
the vicissitudes which perplex the fate of 
kings. Its most significant memorial is that 
monument of Canova's which soars beneath 
the magnificent dome of St. Peter's splendid 
edifice. " Often, at the present day," says 
Earl Stanhope, ''does the British traveller 
turn from the sunny heights of the Pincian, 
or the carnival throngs of the Corso, to gaze 
in thoughtful silence on that sad mockery of 
human greatness, and that last record of 
ruined hopes ! The tomb before him is of a 
race justly expelled ; the magnificent temple 
that enshrines it is of a faith wisely reformed ; 
yet who at such a moment would harshly re- 
member the errors of either, and might not 
join in the prayer even of that erring Church 
for the departed exiles — 

Eequiescat in Pace!'' 



CHAPTER VI. 



PRINCE FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER, 
SON OF GEORGE II. 



[Authorities : — Lord Hervey's Life and Letters ; Bubb Dodding- 
ton's Diary ; Earl Stanhope's History of England ; Earl of 
Hardwicke's Memoirs ; Walpole's Memoirs and Correspondence ; 
Coxe's Life of Walpole ; Thackeray's Four Georges ; Macaulay's 
Essays, etc.] 



CHAPTER VI. 



PRINCE FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER, 
SON OF GEORGE II. 



A Prince behold ! for me who bums sincere, 

E'en with a subject's zeal. He my great work 

Will parent-like sustain, and added give 

The touch, the graces, and the muses owe. 

For Britain's glory swells his panting breast ; 

And ancient arts he emulous revolves ; 

His pride to let the smiling heart abroad, 

Through clouds of pomp, that but conceal the man ; 

To please his pleasure, bounty his delight ; 

And all the soul of Titus dwells in him. 

Thomson. 



i. Such is the impassioned panegyric which 
the poet of "Liberty'' lavishes upon the 
eldest son of George II. ; upon that much- 
abused prince, whom his own father de- 
nounced as " a beast/' and his mother, the 
fair and sagacious Caroline, as " the greatest 
ass, and the greatest liar, and the greatest 



304 FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

canaille, and the greatest beast In the whole 
world.'' Such is the eulogium which Thom- 
son pronounces upon the man whom Lord 
Hervej, no incapable judge of character, 
thus witheringly portrays : — " He desired 
without love, could laugh without being 
pleased, and weep without being grieved ; 
for which reason his mistresses were never 
fond of him, his companions never pleased 
with him, and those he seemed to com- 
miserate never relieved by him. When he 
aimed at being merry in company, it was in 
so tiresome a manner that his mirth was to 
real cheerfulness what wet wood is to a fire — 
that damps the flame it is brought to feed. 
His irresolution would make him take any- 
body's advice who happened to be with him ; 
so that jealousy of being thought to be in- 
fluenced (so prevalent in weak people, and 
consequently those who are most influenced) 
always made him say something depreciating 
to the next comer, of him that advised him 
last. With these qualifications, true to no- 
body, and seen through by everybody, it is 
easy to imagine nobody had any regard for 
him; what regard, indeed, was it possible 
anybody could have for a man who had no 



A CHARACTER. 305 

truth in his words, no justice in his inclina- 
tion, no integrity in his commerce, no sincerity 
in his professions, no stability in his attach- 
ments, no sense in his conversation, no dignity 
in his behaviour, and no judgment in his 
conduct ?'^ A recent writer says of him, " It 
has been the custom to ascribe all good 
qualities to a prince of Wales ; yet flattery 
itself found it hard to say that Prince 
Frederick possessed a single virtue." 

ii. The impartial historian, on a careful 
review of Prince Frederick's career, will, per- 
haps, be disposed to consider that the truth lies 
in Si juste milieu between these opposite opin- 
ions. He was certainly possessed of considerable 
talents, but these were partly neutralised for 
good by the instability of his judgment. He 
was susceptible of strong affections, as his 
domestic life sufficiently proved, but vanity 
and weakness of character often caused him 
to act in opposition to his better feelings. He 
was not unaware that he was capable of a 
useful, if not a brilliant career, but his unfor- 
tunate position with respect to his father 
made him the tool of a party and the leader of 
a faction. It is certain that between him and 
his parents there existed a most unnatural 



306 FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

hatred, and that Queen Caroline, even on her 
deathbed, spoke of him in terms of the bit- 
terest aversion. History has failed to dis- 
cover the cause. It is supposed to have been 
revealed in the original MS. of Lord Hervey's 
Memoirs, but prior to their publication in 
1848, the Marquis of Bristol cut out and burnt 
certain passages which he considered unfit to 
meet the public eye. Lord Kaimes, v^ho had 
read them, and described them as " written with 
great freedom," — a judgment which no one 
will dispute — declared in 1778, that whenever 
they appeared, posterity would learn the 
secret of the antipathy between George the 
Second and his son. Had the presumptuous 
heir-apparent carried off one of his father^ s 
German mistresses? Or was it, as Earl 
Stanhope suggests — though the cause seems 
insufficient for so enduring a hatred — Fre- 
derick's defiance of the parental injunction to 
terminate his engagement with the Princess 
Eoyal of Prussia ? Between her father and 
Frederick's father prevailed an obstinate 
antipathy, which resulted in the rupture of 
the negociations. Whereupon Prince Frede- 
rick, " in as much despair as a lover can be 
who has never seen his mistress, sent from 



A DESPAIRING LOVER. 307 

Hanover one La Motte, as his agent, to assure 
the Queen of Prussia that he was determined 
in spite of his father, still to conclude the 
marriage, and that he would set off in disguise 
for Berlin to execute his purpose. But the 
Queen, in an overflowing transport of delight, 
could not refrain from imparting the good 
news to the English envoy at her court. He, 
as was his duty, gave timely notice to his own, 
the rash project was prevented, and the head- 
strong prince was summoned to England, 
where he arrived, to the great joy of the 
nation, in 1728.'^ Whatever the cause, the 
fact of the malignant hate with which both 
king and queen regarded him cannot be dis- 
puted, and the king even went so far as to 
contemplate his disinheritance, until he was 
advised that such a proceeding was impossible 
in English law. 

iii. In a constitutional monarchy it seems 
very difficult for the heir-apparent to the crown, 
if he mixes at all in politics, to avoid placing 
himself at the head of the opposition. " He 
is impelled to such a course," says Lord 
Macaulay, " by every feeling of ambition and 
of vanity. He cannot be more than second 
in the estimation of the party which is in. He 



308 FEEDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

is sure to be the first member of the partj 
whicli is out. The highest favour which the 
existing administration can expect from him 
is that he will not discard them ; but if he 
joins the opposition, all his associates expect 
that he will promote them, and the feelings 
which men entertain towards one from whom 
they hope to obtain great advantages which 
they have not, are far warmer than the feel- 
ings with which they regard one, who at the 
very utmost can only leave them in possession 
of what they already have- An heir-apparent, 
therefore, who wishes to enjoy, in the highest 
perfection, all the pleasure that can be derived 
from eloquent flattery and profound respect, 
will always join those who are struggling to 
force themselves into power." This is, we 
believe, the true explanation of a fact which 
Lord Granville attributed to some natural 
peculiarity in the illustrious House of Bruns- 
wick. " This family," said he at council — 
we suppose after his daily half gallon of Bur- 
gundy — '' always has quarrelled, and always 
will quarrel, from generation to generation." 
He should have known something of the 
matter, for he had been a favourite with three 
successive generations of the royal house. We 



PEINCES AND POLITICS. 309 

cannot quite admit his explanation, but the 
fact is indisputable. Since the accession of 
George the First, there have been three 
Princes of Wales, and thej have all been 
almost constantly in opposition. We may 
hope, however, that the fifth Prince of Wales 
of the House of Brunswick will break the evil 
spell which has so long existed, and by a 
prudent abstinence from political partizan- 
ship, command the respect of every faction, 
and the love and affection of the whole nation. 
A disregard of this wise and commendable 
prudence embittered the life and neutralised 
the career of Frederick Louis, Prince of Wales, 
iv. The eldest son of Prince George Au- 
gustus (afterwards George II) and Caroline 
Wilhelmina Dorothea of Anspach (afterwards 
Queen Caroline) was born at Hanover, on the 
20th of January, 1707. From his very birth 
the heir of England was neglected by his pa- 
rents, and even his education was regarded as 
a matter of trivial importance. It is no mar- 
vel, therefore, that the lad, who was quick, 
intelligent, and self-reliant, of easy manners 
and fluent speech, speedily fell into indifferent 
company, and learned to amuse his leisure 
hours with the debasing pleasures of the dice 



310 FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

and the wine cup. His freedom of address soon 
degenerated into vulgar coarseness ; his quick- 
ness became impertinence ; his language was 
b arrowed from the vocabulary of his unsuita- 
ble associates; so that his tutor felt himself con- 
strained to lay a remonstrance before the 
Princess Caroline. With careless indifference 
she replied that, doubtless, his habits were 
those of a voung and saucy page. The en- 
raged tutor could only mutter that they ra- 
ther resembled those of a rascal groom. Thus 
abandoned to himself and to his own wild im- 
pulses, he showed himself possessed of at least 
one of the Brunswick characteristics, in main- 
taining, like his father and grandfather, a 
number of shameless courtezans in open vio- 
lation of the public decorum. 

V. He was in his nineteenth year when 
George the First recognised him as the heir- 
apparent to the Crown by creating him Duke 
of Gloucester — though, for unexplained rea- 
sons, the patent never passed the great seal — 
Baron of Snowdon, in the county of Caermar- 
von, Viscount of Launceston, in Cornwall, 
Earl of Eltham, in Kent, Marquis of the Isle 
of Ely, and Duke of Edinburgh—'' which pa- 
tent" says an anonymous pamphleteer, writ- 



DUKES OF GLOUCESTER. 311 

Ing in 1751, "did pass the seals, and was 
actually sent to him ; for I know from the 
generosity which afterwards appeared in all 
his actions, he made the messenger who had 
the good luck to be sent with it a very hand- 
some present." Perhaps the reason for not 
passing the first patent was because it was 
deemed an unfortunate title ; for '' Thomas, 
Duke of Gloucester, uncle to Eichard II, 
was carried prisoner to Calais, and there 
murdered; Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, 
uncle to Henry VI, was clapt up in prison, 
and there privately murdered ; Eichard, Duke 
of Gloucester, afterwards Eichard III, was 
slain in Bosworth Field ; H enry, Duke of 
Gloucester, youngest son of Charles I, died 
in the 20th year of his age, and just after his 
return from exile, so that he can hardly be 
said to have ever enjoyed any happiness in 
this life ; and William, Duke of Gloucester, 
only son of Queen Anne, died in the 12th 
year of his age, after the death of his aunt. 
Queen Mary, and before his mother's accces- 
sion to the crown.'' 

vi. The Prince was but a child when the 
crowned heads of England and Prussia con- 
templated an union of their houses by uniting 



812 FEEDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVEE. 

him to Frederick's eldest daughter, the Crown 
Princess. The two corresponded at an early 
date, and love-letters and love-gifts passed 
between them until the young prince actually 
grew ardently attached to his unseen inamor^ 
ata. This strange passion did not die away 
as he grew older, notwithstanding his many 
debaucheries ; nor did his dissolute life ren- 
der him a less suitable " match" in the eyes 
of his lady love's ambitious mother, who 
would say to her, according to Thomas Car- 
lyle: — '' He is a Prince, that Frederick, who 
has a good heart, and whose genius is very 
small. Eather ugly than handsome ; slightly 
out of shape even. But provided you, Wil- 
helmina, have the complaisance to suffer his 
debaucheries, you will quite govern him ; and 
you will be more king than he, when once 
his father is dead. What glories for you in 
England !" 

vii. The dislike which had always existed 
between George II. and Frederick the Great 
ripened, after the former's accession to the 
English throne, into a deep intense antipathy ; 
and as a consequence the king of England 
positively forbade the marriage of the Priuce 
with the Prussian Princess Royal. Hence 



HIS POSITION IN ENGLAND. 313 

arose, as Earl Stanliope imagines, the settled 
aversion between George the Second and his 
son, and in order to prevent a clandestine 
marriage, Prince Frederick was hastily sum- 
moned to England — much to the delight of 
the English people, who had seen with displea- 
sure the prolonged absence of the heir to the 
crown. At first, he won popularity by his 
reticence and apparent indifference to politics, 
but in due time, as he became familiar with 
the English language and customs, and learnt 
to appreciate the importance of his position, 
he began to mingle oftener and more promi- 
nently in public affairs, until he absolutely 
identified himself with the party in opposition 
to his father's ministers. Oppressed by the 
debt he had contracted in Hanover, and by 
the expenses of the regal state he persisted in 
maintaining, another source of irritation was 
added to the many already existing between 
himself and the King, in his constant appli- 
cations for an increased allowance. King 
George at length agreed to give him £50,000 
per annum, but the prince was still discon- 
tented, and a protracted struggle ensued, 
determined at last by the rejection of a motion 

VOL. II. p 



314 FEEDEEICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

— made by Carteret in the Upper House and 
Pulteney in the Lower — to increase his in- 
come to £100,000. 

viii. The Prince's main rule of conduct, it 
must be confessed, appears to have been 
simply this ; to show himself in every respect 
the exact opposite to his father. George II. 
disliked '' boetry'' and " bain ting ;" Fred- 
erick, therefore, ostentatiously patronised 
artists and men of letters, and his miniature 
court was crowded by the celebrities of the 
time. " To these,'' says Lord Stanhope, 
" the Prince's house was always open ; Pul- 
teney, Chesterfield, Wyndham, Carteret, and 
Cobham became his familiar friends, and the 
* al-accomplished' St. John the Mentor of his 
political course. It was with a view to his 
future reign, and as an oblique satire on his 
father's, that the fine essay of Bolingbroke, 
the ' Patriot King,' was composed." 

ix. In 1734, when the breach between the 
King and the Prince had become irreparable, 
Frederick, at a loss for a career for himself, 
suddenly made his appearance at St. James's, 
and demanded an interview with His Majesty. 
An audience wa*s, after some hesitation, 



HIS MARRIAGE. 315 

accorded him, when, to George's intense sur- 
prise, he urged three important pleas : first, 
that he might be permitted to serve in the en- 
suing campaign on the Ehine ; second, that a 
fixed income should be settled upon him as 
heir-apparent ; and third, that he might be 
provided with a suitable consort. To the first 
two requests, the King answered nothing ; to 
the third, "Yes, you shall ; but be respectful to 
the Queen ;'* and so the interview terminated* 
It was time, indeed, that a domestic life should 
be thrown open to the Prince ; his connec- 
tions with loose women having become a 
public scandal. The Princess Augusta of 
Saxe Gotha, a woman of considerable talent, 
was selected, and Prince Frederick consented 
to accept her. He then broke up his liaison 
with Miss Vane, the " Woman of Quality" of 
Smollett's " Peregrine Pickle," but, by way 
of amendment, entered into a similarly disre- 
putable connection with Lady Archibald 
Hamilton, a plain Scotch dowdy, the mother 
of ten children, and the kinswoman of half a 
hundred cousins " of that ilk." 

X. The marriage took place in the Chapel 
Eoyal of St. James's on the 27th of April, 
1736, when the bridegroom was twenty -nine, 



316 FREDEEICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

and the bride seventeen years of age. It was 
attended with the usual ceremony, and fol- 
lowed by more than the usual happiness. 
The Princess made an admiraWe wife, and 
the Prince, despite his infidelities, was an at- 
tached husband. He cared not a jot for his 
mistresses •, he was passionately devoted to his 
wife. At first, indeed, she was as wilful as a 
child, and was petted as a child, but her 
superior mental powers soon developed them- 
selves, and she fulfilled the duties of her posi- 
tion with a tact and address which won the 
golden opinions of all with whom she came in 
contact. The Prince made her an important 
agent in the systematic annoyance of the 
King and Queen, and her accouchement of her 
first child was especially contrived to place 
them in awkward relations with the country. 
The approach of her confinement was only 
known to them a month before it took place, 
though the birth of an heir to the Prince of 
Wales was necessarily a circumstance of 
public importance, which concerned not only 
the Eoyal family, but the nation at large. 
The King, when apprised of its proximity, 
expressed a wish *i;hat it should take place 
under the roof of Hampton Court, where he 



A COURT SCANDAL. 317 

was then residing, and the Queen stated her 
intention of being present. Prince Frederick 
immediately determined to disappoint both 
his parents, and on the night of the 11th of 
August, 1737, resolved to remove his wife to 
St. James's Palace. This singular scene has 
been vividly depicted by Carlyle : — " Fred 
and Spouse," he says, '' are out at Hampton 
Court : potential heir due before long, and 
no preparation made for it. August 11th, 
in the evening, out at solitary Hampton 
Court, the poor, young mother's pains came 
on ; no Chancellor there, no Archbishop to 
see the birth — in fact, hardlv the least medical 
help, and of political altogether none. Fred, 
in his flurry, or by forethought — instead of 
dashing off expresses, at a gallop as of Epsom, 
to summon the necessary persons and appli- 
ances, yoked wheeled vehicles and rolled off 
to the old unprovided Palace of St. James's, 
London, with his poor wife in person ! Un- 
warned, unprovided ; where, nevertheless, she 
was safely delivered that same night — safely, 
as if by miracle. The crisis might have 
taken her on the very highway : never was 
such an imprudence. Owiifg, I will believe, 

p 3 



318 FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

to Fred's sudden flurry in the unprovided 
moment — unprovided, by reason of prior de- 
suetudes and discouragements to speecli, on 
papa's side. A shade of malice there might 
also be. Papa doubts not it was malice afore- 
thought all of it. ' Had the potential heir of 
the British nation gone to wreck, or been 
born on the highway, from my quarrels with 
this bad Fred, what a scrape had I been in !' 
thinks papa, and is in a towering permanence 
of wrath ever since ; the very newspapers 
and coffee-houses and populaces now all 
getting vocal with it." 

The principal attendant on the Princess at' 
the time of her accouchement was Lady Archi- 
bald Hamilton, her husband's mistress ! The 
moment the queen had been apprised of the 
flight of her son and his wife she had started 
in swift pursuit, but she did not arrive at St. 
James's until the child was born, — the Prin- 
cess Augusta, afterwards mother of the un- 
happy Caroline of Brunswick. 

xi. This was the crowning point of the 
quarrel between Frederick and the king. 
''Papa," says Mr. Carlyle, " as it turned out, 
never more saw ifie face of Fred. Judicious 
Mamma, Queen Caroline, could not help a 



A COURT SCANDAL. 319 

visit, one visit to the poor young mother, as 
soon as proper. Coming out from the visit, 
Prince Fred obsequiously escorting her to her 
carriage, found a crowd of people and popu- 
lace in front of St. Jameses ; and there knelt 
down in the street, in his fine silk breeches 
careless of the mud, to ' beg a mother's bless- 
ing,' and show what a son he was, he for this 
part, in this sad discrepancy that had risen ! 
Mamma threw a silent glance on him, con- 
taining volumes of mixed terror ; drove off ; 
and saw no more of Fred, she either." Both 
the Prince and Princess, it is true, made every 
suitable apology, and in so humble and re- 
spectful a tone that they ought, perhaps, to 
have been accepted by the king, but nothing 
now could soften the royal heart, and the 
quarrel was still further inflamed by Sir 
Eobert Walpole, who apprehended that a 
family settlement might be followed by his 
own dismissal. By his advice an angry 
answer was returned to the Prince. He was 
informed that the king viewed his conduct 
with the most severe displeasure; that he 
would receive no further excuse or explana- 
tions ; and that it was his command that the 
Prince and his family should immediately re- 



320 FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

move from St. James's. This despotic man- 
date was signed by the king, and dated the 
10th of September. 

xii. There was no alternative but obedience. 
The Prince hired Norfolk House, St. James's 
Square, and casting aside the last shreds of 
decorum, drew around him a court in direct 
opposition to his father's. Bubb Doddington 
figured there as treasurer ; but the guiding 
spirits were men of a very different calibre, — 
Carteret and Pulteney, Pitt, and Littleton of 
Hagley. " Poor Fred !" to quote again from 
Carlyle, " he has a circle of hungry parlia- 
menteers about him ; young Pitt, a cornet of 
horse, young Lyttleton of Hagley, — not to 
mention others of worse type ; to whom this 
royal young gentleman, with his vanities, 
ambitions, inexperiences,plentiful inflammabi- 
lities, is importunate for exploding Walpole. 
He may have, and with great justice I should 
think, the dim consciousness of talents for 
doing something better than ' write madri- 
gals' in this world ; infinitude of wishes and 
appetites he clearly has ; — he is full of in- 
flammable materials, poor youth. And he is 
the fireship those elder hands make use of for 
blowing Walpole and Company out of their 



POLITICAL TEOUBLES. 321 

anchorage. What a scliool of virtue for a 
young gentleman ; and for the elder ones 
concerned with him ! He did not get to the 
Ehine campaign, nor indeed ever to any- 
thing, except to writing madrigals, and being 
futile, dissolute, and miserable with what of 
talent Nature had given him. Let us pity 
the poor constitutional Prince. One Fritz 
(of Prussia), was only in danger of losing his 
life, but what is that to losing your sanity, 
personal identity almost, and becoming 
Parliamentary Fireship to His Majesty's Op- 
position ?'' 

xiii. Nevertheless, the Prince's life, on the 
whole, was not unhappy. His children loved 
him ; he was the centre of a brilliant circle ; 
and he moved at pleasure from Norfolk House 
to Leicester House, from Carlton House to 
Kew, amusing himself with literary converse, 
musical parties, and political intrigues. Into 
the latter he threw himself with bitter per- 
sonal feeling, and all who were not for him he 
regarded as against him. Here is an illustra- 
tive anecdote : — Mr., afterwards Sir Edward 
Walpole, the brother of Horace Walpole, was 
one of those who attended the coterie at Lei- 
cester House, but nevertheless reserved for 



322 FREDERICK LOUTS OF HANOVER. 

himself a certain freedom of action. He was 
also one of the principal performers at the 
Prince's private concerts. On one occasion 
the Prince being anxious to embarrass the 
ministry on a question connected with the 
organization of the army, was seeking recruits 
on every side, and amongst others endea- 
voured to enlist Mr. Walpole. The latter re- 
fused, and on being urged to state his motives, 
replied, " You will never forgive me, sir, if I 

give you my reasons.'' " By G d I will,'* 

said Prince Frederick, who was walking 
round the room with his arm on Edward Wal- 
pole' s shoulder. The latter retorted, in jest, 

" By G d, sir, you will not. Yet I will 

tell you. I cannot stay away from the House, 
or vote against the question, because your 
father and mine are for the question." The 
Prince turned away from him in anger, but 
the Princess Royal, who was seated at the 
harpsichord, had the good sense to exclaim, 
" Bravo, Mr. Walpole." 

xiv. When the obstinate politician next at- 
tended an amateur concert at Leicester House, 
there were also present some hired profes- 
sionals, and the Prince took occasion to ad- 
dress him as if he were one of their number. 



AT A CONCERT. 323 

Walpole in a rage rang the bell hastily, 
ordered his violencello to be removed, and left 
the house in a passion, heaping maledictions 
on the Prince and his companions. The irri- 
tation on both sides having subsided, Fre- 
derick's good feeling led hiai to offer an 
apology to Mr. "Walpole, and the latter re- 
sumed his attendance at Leicester House. He 
was still, however, solicited to join the Oppo- 
sition, and to free himself from the vexation 
of an incessant importunity he wrote to the 
Prince of Wales, and plainly asked him how 
he would like him to behave when he became 
king ? stating that in just the same manner 
would he behave to George the Second while 
he continued on the throne. Frederick, when 
he had read the missive, exclaimed, with that 
proper .feeling which he could at times dis- 
play, " He is an honest man, and I will 
keep his letter," and the good understanding 
between them was never afterwards inter- 
rupted. 

XV. The Prince was not destined to occupy 
the throne which he so eagerly coveted. A 
cold, caught on a bitter day in March, 1751, 
was neglected. It ripened into pleurisy, 
which was also neglected, and death followed 



324 FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

with fatal swiftness. From Bubb Dodding- 
ton's diary we extract a few passages relative 
to his last illness : — 

"March 6th, 1751. Went to Leicester 
House, where the Prince told me that he had 
catched cold, the day before, at Kew, and 
had been blooded. 

" March 8th. The Prince not recovered. 
Our passing the next week at Kew put 
off. 

" March 10th. At Leicester House. The 
Prince was better, and saw company. 

"March 13th. At Leicester House. The 
Prince did not appear, having a return of a 
pain in his side. 

" March 14th. At Leicester House. The 
Prince asleep — twice blooded, and with a 
blister on his back, as also on both legs, that 
night. 

"March 15th. The Prince out of all 
danger. 

"March 16th. The Prince without pain 
or fever. 

"March 17th. Went twice to Leicester 
House. The Prince had a bad night, till one 
this moraing, then was better, and continued 
so. 



HIS ILLNESS. 325 

" March ISth. The Prince better and sat 
up half-an-hour. 

'^ March 20th. Went to Leicester House ; 
from there to the House of Commons, and 
then to Hammersmith, and was told at 
Leicester House, at three o'clock, that the 
Prince was much better, and had slept eight 
hours in the night before, while, I suppose, 
the mortification was forming ; for he died 
this evening a quarter before ten o'clock. 

"March 21st. I came immediately to 
town, and learned from Mr. Breton, who was 
at Leicester House when the Prince died, 
that, for half-an-hour before, he was very- 
cheerful, asked to see some of his friends, 
eat some bread and butter, and drank coffee : 
he had spit for some days, and was at once 
seized with a fit of coughing and spitting, 
which last was so violent that it suffocated 
him. Lord North was sent to the king. 
This morning the king ordered the body to 
be opened — an abscess was found in his side, 
the breaking of which destroyed him. His 
physicians, Wilmot and Lee, knew nothing 
of his distemper ; as they declared, half-an- 
hour before he died, that his pulse was like a 

VOL. II. Q 



326 FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

man's in perfect health. Thev either would 
not see, or did not know, the consequences of 
the black thrush, which appeared in his 
mouth, and quite down into his throat. Their 
ignorance, or their knowledge of his disorder, 
renders them equally inexcusable for not 
calling in other assistance." 

xvi. The death of the Prince was felt as a 
severe bereavement in his own family, by 
whom, despite his faults and follies, he was 
tenderly beloved. The Princess had borne 
him eight children, and was then pregnant 
with the ninth. Pie had been dead four 
hours before she could be convinced that she 
was really a widow. His eldest son, Prince 
George, afterwards George III., was deeply 
affected by his loss; he turned pale, and 
placed his hand to his heart, as if seized 
with a sudden pain. " I am afraid, Sir," said 
his tutor, " you are not well.'' " I feel," 
replied the young Prince, " I feel something 
here; just as I did when I saw the two 
workmen fall from the scaffold at Kew." 
The nation, generally, regretted his prema- 
ture death, for his affability and good nature 
had made him popular with the many, who 



ii 



HIS CHAEACTER. 327 

always place a value on the small coin of 
Princes far exceeding their intrinsic worth. 
The king appears to have exhibited a genuine 
concern; but his brother, William, Duke of 
Cumberland, — by some called the " butcher," 
by others the " hero" of Culloden, — when he 
received the intelligence at Windsor, only 
turned to Lord Sandwich, and said, sneering- 
ly, " It is a great blow to this country, but I 
hope it will recover it in time !" 

xvii. He was mourned by the literary men 
he had befriended, and of whom he had been 
the generous, if inconstant, patron. For his 
amateur theatricals at Clifden, Thomson 
wrote his masque of Alfred^ and received 
from the Prince an annuity of £100. His 
widow did not continue her husband^ s dona- 
tions or imitate his munificence ; and though 
she had a large dower, and a third of the 
revenues of the duchy of Cornwall settled 
upon her, she did not even pay all his debts. 
He owed several thousands to Bubb Dodd- 
ington, and a very large sum to Sir Thomas 
Bootle, his Chancellor, the *' bright Bootle '' 
of Sir Hanbury Williams. When George ITI. 
ascended the throne he remembered his 



328 FEEDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

father's obligation, and proposed to confer a 
peerage on the husband of Sir Thomas's 
niece, Eichard Bootle Wilbraham. The 
promise, however, was not fulfilled, and it 
remained for George IV. to discharge, in 
some- wise, his grandfather's debt by creating 
the great nephew of Prince Frederick's 
chancellor, Baron Skelmersdale, of Lanca- 
shire. 

xviii. Our sketch of this unhappy Prince's 
career may terminate with some desultory 
notes. In reference to his conduct on the first 
accouchement of his wife a remarkable narra- 
tive is afforded by Sarah, Duchess of Marl- 
borough, in a letter to Earl Stair, dated from 
Wimbledon, August 17, 1737. "There has 
been a very extraordinary quarrel at Court, 
which I believe nobody will give you so ex- 
act an account of as myself. The 31st of last 
month the Princess fell in labour. The King 
and Queen both knew that she was to lie in at 
St. James's, where everything was prepared. 
It was her first child, and so little a way to 
London, that she thought it less hazard to go 
immediately away from Hampton Court to 
London, where she had all the assistance that 



A STRANGE SCENE. 329 

could be, and everything prepared, than to 
stay at Hampton Court, where she had 
nothing, and might be forced to make use of 
a country midwife. There was not a minute's 
time to be lost in debating this matter, nor in 
ceremonials ; the Princess begging earnestly 
of the Prince to carry her to St. James's, in 
such a hurry that gentlemen went behind the 
coach like footmen. They got to St. James's 
safe, and she was brought to bed in one hour 
after. Her Majesty followed them as soon as 
she could, but did not come till it was all 
over. However, she expressed a great deal 
of anger to the Prince for having carried her 
away, though she and the child were very 
well. I should have thought it had been 
more natural for a grandmother to have said 
she had been mightily frightened, but she 
was so glad it was so well over. The Prince 
said all the respectful and dutiful things im- 
aginable to her and the King, desiring her 
Majesty to support the reasons which made 
liim go away as he did without acquainting 
his Majesty with it ; and I believe all human 
creatures will allow that this was natural for 
a man not to debate a thing of this kind, nor 



330 FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER. 

to lose a minute's time in ceremony, which 
was very useless, considering that it is a great 
while since the King has spoke to him, or 
taken the least notice of him. The Prince 
told her Majesty he intended to go that morn- 
ing to pay his duty to the King, but she ad- 
vised him not. This was Monday morning, 
and she said Wednesday was time enough ; 
and, indeed, in that I think her Majesty was 
in the right. The Prince submitted to her 
counsel, and only writ a very submissive and 
respectful letter to his Majesty, giving his rea- 
sons for what he had done. And this con- 
versation ended, that he hoped his Majesty 
would do him the honour to be god-father to 
his daughter, and that he would be pleased to 
name who the god -mother should be, and 
that he left all the directions of the christen- 
ing entirely to his Majesty's pleasure. The 
Queen answered that it would be thought the 
asking the King to be god-father was too 
great a liberty, and advised him not to do it. 
When the Prince led the Queen to her coach, 
which she would not have had him have 
done, there was a great concourse of people ; 
and notwithstanding all that had passed 



BONS-MOTS. 331 

before, she expressed so much kindness that 
she hugged and kissed him with great com- 
passion/' From this account, whose accuracy 
is confirmed by Lord Hervey in his cynical 
Memoirs, it is evident that the Prince was 
more sinned against than sinning. 

xix. A well-known bon mot of Pope's is 
connected with Prince Frederick Louis. 
" Mr. Pope," said the Prince, '' you don't love 
Princes." " Sir," replied the poet, " I beg 
your pardon." "Well, you don't love Kings 
then." " Sir, I own I love the lion best 
before his claws are grown." 

xix. The Prince was an assiduous though 
not always a successful patron of art. 
According to Virtue, the celebrated engraver, 
"his collection of the best masters would 
always show his taste, though not the extent of 
his judgment and inclinations. He has done 
more in collections than any Prince in 
England since King Charles the First, and 
emulated that worthy great king, wishing he 
could form so considerable a collection." 

XX. Upon the death of the Prince the 
following epigram appeared, and was freely 
.circulated all over the town : 



332 FREDERICK LOUIS OF HANOVER, 



' Here lies Fred, 
Who was alive and is dead ; 
Had it been his father, 
I had much rather ; 
Had it been his brother, 
Still better than another; 
Had it been his sister. 
No one would have missed her ; 
Had it been the whole generation, 
Still better for the nation: 
But since 'tis only Fred, 
Who was alive and is dead — 
There's no more to be said." 



THE END, 



T. C. Newby, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, London. 



IXDEX. 



A. 



Aquitaine, appointment of Black 
Prince as King's lieutenant, i, 
47 ; Andreas, Bernard, tutor of 
Prince Arthur, i, 285 ; Anne, 
Queen, lier death, ii, 20/ ; Anne 
of Warwick, her birth, i, 266 
her disguise as a servant, i, 268 
discovered by Richard, i, 268 
her marriage, i, 269 ; birth of 
her son, i, 270 ; loss of her son, 
i, 276; her death, i, 276; Ar- 
gyle, Duke of, at Dumblane, ii, 
215 ; Arthur of Winchester, his 
birth, i, 282 ; his christening, i, 
283; his education, i, 285 ; his re- 
nown in Archery, i, 286; projected 
alliance, i, 289 ; his marriage, i, 
301 ; his death, and burial, i, 
310—313; reflections on, i, 314; 
Athol, Duke of, ii, 258; Aumale, 
Count of, i, 36 ; Aumale, fall of, 
i, 141 ; Augusta, Princess of 
Saxe Gotha, ii, 315 ; Avignon, 
residence of the Pretender at, ii, 
223. 

B. 

Ballad writers, i, 11; Ballads 
(Jacobite); ii, 212, 214, 235, 253 ; 
Battle of the Herrings, i, 125; 
Baadricourt, De, sends Joan of 
Arc to the Dauphin, i, 129; 
Beaumont, Sir Eichard, i, 35; 
Berkhampstead Castle, i, 70; 
Berwick, Duke of, ii, 237 ; Ber- 



trand, ransom of, i, 83 ; Bed- 
ford, Duke of, his birth, i, 109 ; 
his appointment as commander, 
i, 111 ; his regency, i, 113 ; 
Bedford, Duke of, illness and 
death, i, 145 ; Ben Jonson, i, 
327; Blois, Count of, i, 36; 
Blore Heath, battle at, i, 
164 ; Bordeaux, departure from, 
i, 48 ; return to in triumph, i, 
48 ; Bourges, capture of, i, 49 ; 
Bordeaux surrendered, i, 152 ; 
Boyne, Battle of the, ii, 167 ; 
Bolingbroke, Lord, ii, 211, 223 ; 
Bohemia, King of, i, 36 ; 
Bretigni, treaty of, signed, i, 67 ; 
Burleigh, Dr. Walter, i, 5; 
Burning Dragon, i, 31 ; Bur- 
gundy, Duke of, his gallantry, i, 
59; Bubb Doddington's Diary, ii, 
324; Burgundy, Duke of, prepa- 
ration for Battle, i, 205 ; Byng, 
Sir George, ii, 201. 



C. 



Cage, The, ii, 293 ; Campaign of 
1346, commenced, i, 20; Can- 
nons at Cre^.y, i, 28 ; Carcas- 
sone, town of, plundered, i, 48 ; 
Oardiniere, La, the forces meet 
at, i, 50 ; Calais given as secu- 
rity for loan, i, 185 ; Caroline, 
Queen, her hatred to Prince 
Frederick Louis, ii, 306 ; Cax- 
ton, William, his visit to Court, 
i, 235; Cambridge,. University 



334 



INDEX. 



of, ii, 46 ; Carisbrooke Castle, ii, 
17; Catherine Sedley, ii, 121, 
143 ; Catherine Darnley, ii, 122 ; 
Charles VI. (of France), decease 
of, i, 114; Charles ^ VII. (of 
France), increase of his party, i, 
116; his coronation, i, 136; dis- 
sensions in the Council of, i, 
137 ; withdraws his forces, i, 138 ; 
Charles 1st, letters from, i, 
6, 7 ; Charles the 2nd, his death, 
ii, 57 ; Charles Edward Stuart, 
his birth and education, ii, 236 ; 
commencement of his military 
experience, ii, 237 ; commences 
his enterprize, ii, 238; his in- 
cognito at Gravelines, ii, 240; 
his letter to the chevalier, ii, 
244; lands at Borodaile, ii, 250; 
raises the Standard, ii, 252 ; his 
appearance, ii, 257 ; his hardi- 
nes s and popularity, ii, 258 ; his 
success, ii, 262 ; Chivalry, spirit 
of, ii, 17 ; Civil war, evils of, i, 
175 ; Clifford, Lord, slays Earl 
of Eutland, i, 172 ; his cruelty, 
i, 173 ; Clarence, Duke of, his 
desertion, i, 210 ; Cope, Sir 
John, ii, 256; Coventry, Sir 
John, ii, 36 ; Crecy, loss of 
enemy, i, 39 ; Cromwell, Oliver, 
ii, 6; Crofts, Lord, ii, 30 ; Cul- 
loden. Battle of, ii, 280—284. 



D'Alencon, Duke, at Cre9y, i, 32 ; 
Dukedom, first creation of, in 
England, i, 7 ; Dunois, valour 
of, i, 124 ; Dumblane, battle of, 
ii, 216; Dutch, the, war with, 
ii, 123. 

E. 

Edward, the Black Prince, birth 
of, i, 4; made Earl of Chester, 
i, 7 ; made Duke of Cornwall, 
i, 7 ; his appearance in public, 
i, 8 ; his graceful person, i, 9 ; 
projected alliance, i, 9 ; his 
military career, i, 9 ; his suc- 
cess, i, 18 ; receives Lord's Sup- 
per, i, 26; Edward the 3rd's 
forces at Crcfy, i, 27 ; his mes- 



sage to Black Prince, i, 34 ; Ed- 
ward praises the Black Prince, 
i, 37; his return to England, i, 
42 ; Edward disembarks at B,ye, 
i, 45 ; Edward, the Black Prince, 
acts as sponsor, i, 46 ; appointed 
King's lieutenant, i, 47 : success- 
ful return to Bordeaux, i, 48; 
captures Bourges and Issodoun, 
i, 49; forces blocked up, i, 50; 
Edward the 3rd agrees to re- 
nounce the crown of France, i, 
46; leaves the sole command to 
his son, i, 49 ; asserts his claims 
to crown of France, i, 66; loss 
of his army by thunderstorm, i, 
&J ; his grief for Philippa, i, 91 ; 
Edward, Black Prince, his ad- 
dress to army at Poitiers, i, 53 ; 
his message to Cardinal of Peri- 
good, i, 58 ; his reception of 
King John, i, 60 : truce with the 
Lieutenant of France, i, 63 ; dis- 
embarks at Sandwich, i, 63 ; ar- 
rives at Canterbury, i, 64; arrives 
at Eochester, i, 64 ; his recep- 
tion in London, i, 64 ; Edward, 
the Black Prince, his marriage, 
i, 68 ; founds a chantry at Can- 
terbury, i, 70 ; created Prince of 
Aquitaine, i, 70; birth of his 
first son, i, 71 ; undertakes the 
cause of Don Pedro, i, 73; his 
army in Spain, i, 75 ; his prayer 
at eve of Battle, i, 7^ ; his assault 
of Limoges, i, 89; resigns his 
principality, i, 91 ; arrives at 
Plymouth, i, 91 ; his removal to 
Westminster, i, 93 ; his death, i, 
93; advice to Eichard of Bor- 
deaux, i, 94; mourning for, in 
France, i, 97 ; removal of body 
to Canterbury, i, 97; his burial, 
i, 99 ; epitaph to, i, 100 ; his 
character, i, 103 ; Edward of 
Lancaster, his birth, i, 149 ; his 
christening, i, 153 ; created 
Prince of Wales, i, 157 ; his royal 
progress, i, 163 ; present at Bat- 
tle, i, 165 ; his escape to Wales, 
i, 166 ; Knighted for bravery, i, 
176 ; his fiight to Kircudbright, 
i, 181 ; his adventure with a rob- 
ber, i, 187; sails for France, i, 
188 ; his reception at Bruges, i, 
190 ; his character, i, 192 ; his 



INDEX. 



335 



betrothal to Lady Anne, i, 201 ; 
heads the army, i, 213 ; his death 
and burial, i, 219; Edward 5th, 
his birth, i, 224 ; Edward 4th, re- 
turns thanks at St. Paul's, i, 
226; rewards the attendants of 
his wife, i, 228 ; his offerings at 
the Abbey Church, i, 230 ; his 
prediction, i, 232 ; his death, i, 
237 ; [See also York, Duke of.] 
Edward 5th, the mode of his 
education, i, 232 ; created Prince 
of Wales, i, 236 ; despatched to 
Wales, i. 237 ; his return to Lon- 
don, i, 238 ; arrested by his 
uncle, i, 240; murdered by his 
uncle, i, 257 ; Edward of Middle- 
ham, his birth, i, 270; created 
Prince of Wales, i, 272 ; his 
death, i, 275 ; Edinburgh, its 
capture by Prince Charles, li, 
262 ; English Bowmen, i, 27 ; 
English soldiery, their supersti- 
tion, i, 132 ; Epigram, ii, 332. 

F. 

Flanders, Count of, i, 36; Fortes- 
cue, Sir John, appointed tutor 
to Prince of Wales, i, 191 ; 
France, preparations for the 2nd 
invasion of, i, 47 ; French hos- 
tilities recommence, i, 47 ; 
French nobles, hatred to Eng- 
land, i, 47 ; Frederick Louis of 
Hanover, his character, ii, 304, 
327 ; his birth, ii, 309 ; his at- 
tachment to the Crown Princess 
of Prussia, ii, 232 ; his opposition 
to George the Second, ii, 314; 
his marriage to Princess Au- 
gusta, ii, 315 ; birth of his first 
daughter, ii, 316, 328; his re- 
moval for St. James's, ii, 320 ; 
his death, ii, 324; French army, 
the disposal of at Poitiers, i, 
51 ; the confidence of, i, 56 ; 
their repulse, i, 57 ; Froissart's 
description of Edward's recep- 
tion of King John, i, 61. 



G. 



Gascony, forces assemble at, i, 48 ; 
Gai'ter, Order of the, i, 44; Gar- 
-diner, Colonel, his death, ii, 265 ; 



Genoese Crossbows, i, 32 ; killed 
by Philip's Men-at-Arms, i, 33 ; 
George the First, his accession, 
ii, 208; Guescliu, Du, taken 
prisoner, i, 78. 



H. 

Hastings, Lord, murdered, i, 244 ; 
Hanover, House of, acknow- 
ledged by Louis of France, ii, 
183; Heron, the Yow of the, i, 
13 ; Henry IV., married to Ka- 
therine, i, 112 ; captures Meaux, 
i, 113; Henry VI., his marriage, 
i, 150; his dead intellect, i, 155; 
his recovery, i, 156; his grati- 
tude, i, 156; taken prisoner, i, 
162 ; his nominal sovereignty, i, 
163 ; again accepted as King, i, 
206; his death, i, 230; Henry 
VIL, his marriage, i, 279; 
Henry Frederick, his birth, i, 
321 ; received the order of the 
Garter, i, 327 ; his revenue, i, 
330; his character, i, 332; his 
aversion to swearing, i, 342 ; his 
court and household, i, 345 ; his 
illness and death, i, 353 — 356; 
suspicion of poison, i, 358 ; 
Henry IV., of France, i. 335; 
Henry, Duke Gloucester, his 
birth, ii, 1; interview with his 
father, ii, 5 ; his plan of escape, 
ii, 9; farewell to his father, ii, 
14 ; his defence of Dunkirk, ii, 
23 ; his illness and death, ii, 24 ; 
his character, ii, 24; Henrietta, 
Queen, attempting to convert 
her son to Romanism, ii, 21 ; 
Holland, Sir Thomas, united to 
Fair Maid of Kent, i, 46 ; Ho- 
tham, Sir John, ii, 104; Hook, 
Colonel, ii, 207 ; Hyde, Anne, ii, 
116; Hamilton, Lady Archibald, 
ii, 318. 

I. J. 

Issoduu, capture of, i, 49; James 
the First, King, his jealousy, 
i, 349; James, Duke of Mon- 
mouth, his birth, ii, 29; his 
youthful charactei*, ii, 32; his 
marriage, ii, 33 ; his honours, ii, 



336 



34 ; his exploits, ii, 35 ; his popu- 
larity, ii, 38 ; declaration of his 
illegitimacy, ii, 41 ; his disgrace, 
ii, 42; his enthusiastic reception, 
ii, 43 ; his arrest, ii, 45 ; his im- 
plication in Rye House Plot, ii, 
47 ; his pardon, ii, 49 ; his ba- 
nishment, ii, 51 ; his diary, li, 
53 — 57 ; his insurrection, ii, 65 ; 
his error and delay, ii, 69 ; his 
capture, ii, 75 ; his interview 
with James II., ii, 81 ; his super- 
stition, ii, 86 ; his execution, ii, 
93—98; his character, ii, 99; 
James the Second, his birth, ii, 
103 ; his death, li, 185 ; James 
Frederick Edward Stuart, ques- 
tion of his legitimacy, ii, 190 ; 
his embarkation to France, ii, 
193; his character, ii, 196,230; 
his expedition to England, ii, 
199 ; he joins the French army, 
ii, 203; his appeal to Queen 
Anne, ii, 205 ; his protest, ii, 
208 ; his assumed confidence, ii, 
218; his retreat, ii, 221; his 
death, ii, 232 ; Joan, the " Fair 
Maid of Kent," i, 9 ; married to 
Sir J. Holland, i, 46 ; Joan, 
married to Prince Edward, i, 
68 ; her loveliness, i, 69 ; John 
of Yalois, pacific negotiations of, 
i, 46; his confidence of victory, 
i, 52; he yields to Edward, i, 
60 ; John of Gaunt, his ambition, 
i, 91. 

K. 

Katherine of Arragon, her alliance 
to Prince Arthur, i, 290; her 
welcome to England, i, 296 ; her 
entry to London, i, 298 ; her 
bridal, i, 300. 



L. 



Lancaster, Duke of, i, 45 ; Lagny- 
sur-Marne, seige of, i, 144 ; Lin- 
acre, Dr. Thomas, Tutor of 
Prince Arthur, i, 286; Lorraine, 
Duke of, i, 36 ; London, re- 
joicings in, i, 65; Louis of 
Bruges, his visit to Fdward the 
Fourth, i, 228; Lochiel joins the 
court of Charles Stuart, ii, 251 ; 
Limoges, butchery afc, i, 88. 



M. 

Macdonald, Flora, ii, 287, et pas- 
sim ; Macaulay, Lord, quoted, ii, 
277, 307 ; Maid of Orleans, her 
birth, i, 126 ; her beauty, i, 127 ; 
hears the Heavenly Voices, i, 
127 ; brought to Charles, i, 130; 
enters Orleans, i, 131 ; iufluence 
of, i, 134 ; proceeds to Rheims, i, 
136; wounded, i, 140; over- 
powered, i, 141; Manny, Sir 
Walter, i, 43; Margaret of 
Anjou, her union, i, 150; ca- 
lumny regarding her, i, 151 ; 
supplied with arms, &c., i, 170 ; 
her march to Wakefield, i, 171 ; 
her negotiations, i, 184 ; her 
poverty, i, 182; her reception 
in France, i, 184; sails from 
Calais, i, 185 ; repulse at Hex- 
ham, i, 186; attacked by robbers, 
i, 187 ; her reconciliation to Earl 
of Warwick, i, 197; sails for 
England, i, 207 ; her despair, i, 
212 ; taken prisoner, i, 215 ; her 
death, i, 215 ; Mar, Earl of, his 
failure, ii, 216; Meaux, capture 
of, i, 113; Medieval Revels, i, 
229; Morbecque, Denis de, res- 
cues King John, i, 60; Monta- 
gue, Lord, declares for King 
Henry, i, 206; Murray, Lord 
George, appointed Lieutenant- 
General, ii, 259; Monmouth, 
Duke of, his birth, ii, 29; his 
personal graces, ii, 32 ; marriage, 
ii, 33 ; military capacity, ii, .33 ; 
implicated in the Rye House 
Plot, ii, 47; rebels against 
James II., ii., 62 ; defeated at 
Sedgemoor,ii,70 ; taken prisoner, 
ii, 74 J executed, ii, 91. 



N. 



Narbonne, town of, plundered, i, 
48 ; Newton, Adam, i, 324 ; Nor- 
wich, Sir Thomas, i, 34 ; Nor- 
thumberland, Earl of, ii, 4—105. 

0. 

Order of the Garter, origin of, i, 
44; Oriflamme, the, i, 31; Or- 
leans, the siege raised, i, 133; 
Oxford, Earl of, i, 26. 



INDEX. 



337 



Pedro, the Cruel, visit to Prince 
Edward, i, 72 ; his falseness, i, 
74; Perth, Duke of, joins Prince 
Charles, ii, 259 ; Preston Pans, 
battle of, ii, 265; Philip of Ya- 
lois, i, 13; Philip of Yalois, 
army of, i, 21 ; his rage at Crecy, 
i, 30 ; Philip of Yalois, death of, 
i, 46; Phillippa, Queen, nurses 
her children, i, 5 ; Poitiers, the 
field of, described, i, 51 ; Poi- 
tiers, the Bishop of, attempts an 
arrangement, i, 52 ; Porte de St. 
Honore, assault of, i, 140 ; Prince 
of Wales, motto of, i, 39 ; Pyre- 
nees, arrival of the army at the, 
i, 48. 



Q. 



Queen's College, Oxford, i, 6; fel- 
lows of, i, 6. 



R. 



Eaces at Paris, ii, 47; Eichard the 
Second, birth of, i, 71 ; Eichard 
of Bordeaux, appointed heir, i, 
91 ; Eichard of Gloucester pro- 
claims Edward 5th, i, 238; ar- 
rests the guardians of the Boy- 
King, i, 240 ; throws off his 
mask, i, 243 ; crowned as Richard 
3rd, i, 245 ; obtains possession 
of Duke of York, i, 255 ; Eichard, 
King, his remorse, i, 260 ; his 
marriage to Anne, i, 270; his 
coronation, i, 272; Elvers, Earl 
of, entertained by Duke of Glou- 
cester, i, 240 ; Eobert of Artois, 
i, 12 ; Eomorantin, the town of, 
surrenders, i, 49 ; Eye, ships an- 
chored at, i, 45; Rye House 
Plot, ii, 47. 



Salic Law, i, 10; Salisbury, Earl 
of, i, 13; his death, i, 123; en- 
gagement in war, i, 163 ; retires 
to Calais, i, 165 ; Sanctuary, re- 
moval of the Queen to, i, 241 ; 
Sandwich, Earl of, ii, 123 ; Scott, 
Lady Anne, ii, 33; Seaton Haven, 



fleet sail from, i, 47;- Seine, the, 
battle at, i, 111 ; Sedgmoor, bat- 
tle of, ii, 70 ; Sheriff muir, battle 
of, ii, 216; Smollett, quoted, ii, 
284; Sobieski, Princess, marries 
Charles Edward, ii, 224, 225, 
226; Somerset, Duke of, recalled 
by Henry, i, 160; slain, i, 162; 
Spanish battle, i, 44 ; ships, cap- 
ture of, i, 45; St Albans, battle 
at, i, 175 ; Stanhope, Earl, 
quoted, ii, 248, 258, 300 ; Stirling 
Castle, i, 321 ; Suffolk, Earl, 
assumes the command, i, 123 ; 
elevated to Dukedom, i, 151 ; 
prejudice regarding him, i, 151 ; 
Sunday pastime, i, 807. 

T. 

Talleyrand, Cardinal, attempts an 
arrangement, i, 52; Talbot re- 
tires to Meung, i, 134; Torcy, 
fall of, i, 141 ; Tyrrell, Sir James, 
the tool of Richard, i, 257. 

Y. 

Yerneuil, victory of, i, 120 ; Yier- 
son sacked, i, 49 ; Yow of the 
Heron, i, 13. 

W. 

Warwick, Earl of, i, 34; War ex- 
pences, i, 41 ; War of the Roses, 
its commencement, i, 157 ; the 
actors in, i, 159; battle at North- 
ampton, i, 165 ; at Towton, i, 
180 ; at Tewkesbury, i, 214 ; War- 
wick, Earl of, his opposition to 
King Edward, i. 195 ; his collec- 
tion of Foreign troops, i, 204 ; 
Walters, Lucy, ii, 30 ; Walpole, 
Sir Kdward, ii, 321; Walpole, 
Horace, quoted, ii, 229 ; Wed- 
ding Pageantry, i, 302 — 307 j 
Wentworth, Lady, ii, 62 ; Win- 
chelsea, ships anchored at, i, 45. 



York, Duke of (Edward lY.), his 
protectorate, i, 157 ; retirement, 
i, 160 ; his summons to arms, i, 
161 ; his restoration, i, 163 



^ 



338 



INDEX. 



hostility, i, 163 ; his flight to 
Dublin, i, 164; he claims the 
Throne, i, 166; his oration, i, 
168; proclaimed heir apparent, 
i, 169 ; declared King, i, 177 ; 
his success at Towton, i, 180; 
his marriage, i, 195 ; prepares to 
meet Earl of Warwick, i, 205 ; 
his flight, i, 206 ; disembarks at 
Ravenspur, i, 208 ; his duplicity, 
i, 208 ; welcomed by the citizens, 
i, 210 ; his victory over Earl 
Warwick, i, 210 ; his success at 
Tewkesbury, i, 214 ; York, Duke 



of (James II.), his return from 
Holland, ii, 41 ; his escape, ii, 
103; his bravery, ii, 115; his 
marriage, ii, 116 ; his Action 
against the Dutch, ii, 123 ; death 
of his wife, ii, 180 ; his retire- 
ment to Brussels, ii, 135; his 
succession to the Throne, ii, 139 ; 
his attempts to establish the 
Romish Church, ii, 145 ; birth 
of his son, ii, 150 ; preparations 
for his escape, ii, 155 — 158; his 
return to London, ii, 159 ; his 
second escape, ii, 163. 



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